Right Place, Wrong Time?
by Shan84
Summary: It was just another boring day at Borgin and Burkes for Tom Riddle... That is, until a certain bossy, crazy-haired witch stepped through the entrance.  Is this your usual time travel story - or is something else at play? HG/TMR
1. Chapter 1

**Hello dear readers :) Another TMR/HG story from me. This idea has basically been running around in my head for over a month now... so I decided "what the hell" and typed it out... mainly so it would stop annoying me! Therefore you all get to enjoy (hopefully) the fruits of my overactive imagination. I hope you enjoy my take on Hermione travelling back to the 1940s.**

**This story is rated M, for language, violence and other 'adult' situations. So please keep this in mind when reading.  
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**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

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><p>"<em>And if your course could be reset  would you steer your ship my way? / or would you sail the wildest stretch / Just to feel the force of the waves?" Powderfinger (Sail the Wildest Stretch)_

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Playing the part was _so easy_, Tom Riddle mused as he smiled politely at the retreating customer. It was a pity that the waiting game, which he felt he had been playing for so long, seemed to not have an immediate end in sight. It made him so _bored_.

He immediately shut down the niggling temptation to forget all about the façade he had so cleverly crafted and go and rightfully claim his ultimate birth right. Tom had been employed at Borgin and Burkes for a mere few months, surely he could put up with this position of 'shop boy' for a little longer? Besides, for Tom Marvolo Riddle, everything had a reason and no plan or occurrence was accidental… essentially, it was all a means to an end.

Everything had been going exactly to plan, Tom mused, as he completed the sales ledger in an articulate fashion most would be envious of. He had recently graduated top of his class, and, as Head Boy just over a year previously, had successfully travelled to Albania and retrieved the Diadem. Everything was going according to plan.

Tom was bitterly reminded that the only failure so far was that of not being offered the DADA job now that Merrythought was so close to retirement. Tom had so badly wanted to remain at his beloved castle… but it wasn't to be at this stage. A flash of unrestrained anger flashed through him at the rejection. He was pretty sure that his most detested ex-teacher Dumbledore had something to do with _that _decision. The old fool was _always _in Dippet's ear about one thing or another. Just as he was about to continue on his hateful diatribe about the annoying Transfiguration Professor, one of his bosses, Caractacus Burke lumbered out of the back office with an envelope in his hand, effectively interrupting Tom's thoughts.

"Tom, I need to you watch the store whilst I head over to the Owl Post Office," Burke said gruffly as Tom watched him hulking through the shop at a faster pace than what was normal for his rather large body.

Tom put on his best polite façade; he liked to call this one the '_Shop Boy'_ and smiled genially at the owner.

"Certainly, Mr Burke. Do you require anything done whilst you are out?"

He watched as Mr Burke came to a halt. "Ah, yes. Expectin' a customer this afternoon. A favour for one of your old Professors," he replied cryptically.

Tom raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Oh? Which one?"

"Dumbledore," Burke answered quickly. "I owe 'im a favour." Burke blanched a little at admitting this.

_Speak of the devil! _Tom thought in annoyance. Why was that man still playing a part in his life? Would Tom ever get rid of the annoying old coot?

"Oh. So is Dumbledore coming in?" Tom asked with fake interest.

"No. Not Dumbledore 'imself. Someone 'e knows who needs to purchase one of our finer wares…"

Tom raised his eyebrows in surprise. Surely Dumbledore would _never _send one of his little lap dogs into a dark place such as Knockturn Ally? Burke snorted at Tom's surprised expression, causing Tom to quickly school his features back into the usual blank mask.

"Regardless of the great Albus Dumbledore… can you make sure if the customer comes in, they don't run off again?" Burke added and began ambling towards the door.

"Yes Mr Burke," Tom replied with a faraway tone. He was still reeling from the idea of Dumbledore sending someone to Borgin and Burkes. _How odd_, he mused as he watched Burke leave the store and dawdle across the street towards the entrance to Diagon Alley. No doubt, Tom thought, as he watched the man go, Burke would be gone for ages now. Since it was now mid-afternoon, Tom realised that Burke would most definitely stop for tea and talk to everyone he knew on the street – and Burke knew a lot of people.

Tom huffed. One of the downsides to being in this job was doing all of the hard work and watching his bosses not lift a finger – except for their slippery wheeling and dealing, of course. 

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><p>Tom was now contentedly reading a book on the dark origins of Egyptian magic when he heard the entrance door open, with someone rather loudly entering the store. Lazily looking up from his book, he saw her before she noticed him. Or rather, saw her <em>hair<em> before anything else.

The girl, or, if he was more accurate, _young woman_, strode into the store with a determined expression on her face. She looked to be about his age – give or take a year – and was rather short and small with that crazy brown curly hair he had first noticed. Because of it, she was somewhat striking, despite the fact that she wasn't a regal beauty, like a Black or Malfoy. Tom noted - for some strange reason - that she did not appear as though she was interested in tittering in front of a mirror. Not that she was unkempt, no; far from it. She didn't appear high maintenance, though. Perhaps it was her posture, which was straight and confident… she certainly appeared to be a woman on a mission.

_Yes, she is definitely who the old fool sent_, Tom thought as he observed her turn away from his direction and walk curiously towards some display cases. He took the opportunity of her back being turned to get up from his position and quietly walk up behind her. He was hoping to be able to sneak up behind her and give her a shock… _Merlin knows why!_ He thought, before quickly justifying that his behaviour must have been something to do with the tedium of his life lately.

Unfortunately for Tom, just as he was about a foot away from the object of his sudden interest, she turned at an exceptionally fast rate with her wand drawn at him. Her eyes were expertly trained on him in heightened awareness. Tom noted, with some humour, that a lesser wizard would perhaps be frightened by the look on her face, however he _wasn't_ a lesser wizard. If anything, Tom realised that his afternoon just got a whole lot more interesting.

He held his hands up in mock surrender, observing her scan him. "I apologise, I didn't mean to sneak up on you," he said in his most charming voice.

The girl continued to stare at him, but to Tom's satisfaction, slowly began to lower her wand. Though, he noted, she never returned it to her robes.

"Do you work here?" She asked, in what Tom noted, a voice that was neither high-pitched nor too 'girly', but very direct. "If you do, I have a meeting scheduled with a Mr Caractacus Burke," she continued, not waiting for him to answer.

"Yes, I apologise… Mr Burke has had to step out to the post office for a short while, though he shouldn't be too long," Tom noted a sudden glint that passed through her eyes as she looked at him; he wondered what she was thinking. "But he said he had a meeting. I assume you are the one Dumbledore sent?"

The girl huffed slightly, obviously annoyed at Burke not being available. "Yes, _Professor_ Dumbledore sent me… do you have any idea how long Mr Burke will be?"

Tom almost rolled his eyes at the obvious affection in her voice when she mentioned Dumbledore and then had the audacity to correct _him_ in regards to the old coots 'title' – in a swotty manner no less! Controlling his anger to not curse the girl, he smiled politely at the girl.

"Well, I would hope he won't take too long, but unfortunately he normally stops for tea in the afternoons and a lot of people often want to stop and talk to him in both Knockturn and Diagon Alley," Tom explained, noting the frown that suddenly appeared on her face.

"I suppose I'll have to wait then," she said in a rather dejected tone, before sighing and running a hand through her crazy hair and looking around the store.

Tom thought she was quite amusing, whoever she was. There was now an awkward silence as the girl looked all around the shop – anywhere but at Tom _actually_ – and Tom wondered why she seemed so interesting compared to the usual customer.

"I'm sorry; I don't believe I caught your name?" Tom asked. If Tom wasn't an observant person, he may not have noticed the nervous expression that travelled across her face, but he did.

The Girl quickly collected her expression before offering an attempt at a polite smile. "Hermione. Hermione Edwards."

"It's nice to meet you Ms Edwards. My name is Tom Riddle." He pasted a polite smile on his face and held his hand out. Again, he noticed an unknown glint flit through her eyes at the sound of his name. _Had Dumbledore spoken of him and warned her already?_

The girl he now knew as _Hermione_ held her hand out tentatively and he clasped it, giving her hand a gentle but firm shake. "It's nice to meet you Mr Riddle," she responded politely and let go of his hand quickly.

They both looked at each other and Tom was distinctly amused at how awkward the girl seemed. Though it wasn't the usual awkward silliness, like with most girls, she looked extremely uncomfortable. Tom noted with interest that her eyes seemed to unconsciously dart to the windows and exit of the shop.

"Well…" Hermione spoke up again, interrupting Tom's thoughts, "Don't let me keep from you from your work… I'll just look around until Mr Burke returns," she said, absentmindedly waving her hand around the shop.

"Actually I was just reading a book… it's quite a slow day here. I'd be happy to show you around the shop."

"Oh. Um, you don't have to do that," she tried to wave off his suggestion with what seemed like false humour. "I wouldn't want to keep you from anything important."

Tom wasn't about to let her go that easily. Her subtle evasiveness, and the fact that Dumbledore sent her, peaked his interest immensely. "Nonsense, I already said that I wasn't busy. I _insist_," he replied and smiled at her.

She smiled awkwardly. "Oh. Okay, sure," she said and quickly turned away from him and marched over to a glass cabinet.

Tom raised his eyebrows in amusement at Hermione's actions. It was almost as though she treated this as a task she would need to endure. While he would normally find that kind of attitude from a female insulting, she was almost comedic in her attempts to conceal her real emotions. He quickly moved to follow her. Standing beside her, he noted that she was staring at the cursed Opal necklace on display.

"_Do not Touch! Cursed. Has claimed the lives of nineteen Muggle owners to date,_" she read aloud. Turning to face him, she then said, "How awful and distasteful! How can these items be legally sold?" She raised an indignant eyebrow at him.

Tom had to fight the mocking laugh that threatened the leave his mouth. "Well, with all due respect Ms Edwards, aren't you here to do some business yourself?"

He noted with satisfaction the scowl that appeared on her face at his comment. "I am most certainly not purchasing this awful device though!" she replied in a haughty tone as she waved her hand across the case.

"If I may be so bold, what do you intend on purchasing?" he asked, though he then kicked himself as he allowed a note of curiosity in his tone.

Hermione turned away quickly. "It is bold of you to ask, actually."

Tom raised his eyebrows at her brusque response. "My apologies." He attempted to sound contrite. "Though I will see the purchase in the books anyway, I hope that doesn't offend you." He tried to keep the smug tone to a minimum. _Who was this bossy little chit to tell him he wasn't allowed to know something?_

Hermione scoffed and Tom was pretty sure that he saw her roll her eyes from his vantage point. She turned to face him, away from the jewellery case. "I am purchasing a book actually," she responded, and he noted with glee that it was a clipped tone of complete annoyance.

"We sell a few books…" Tom trailed off.

"Merlin! Are you always this nosey?" she finally blustered at him.

Tom's eyes bulged slightly at her sudden and frustrated outburst. "_Excuse _me?" he responded, pretending to sound affronted at her accusation.

"I believe you heard me the first time around," she huffed and walked over to another area, away from him.

Tom hid his grin and followed her. They now stood in front of the Vanishing Cabinet. "Well, are _you _always so secretive?" Tom countered.

"Only to nosey people," she retorted quickly and smirked mockingly at him, before turning towards the cabinet and running her hand delicately down the panel of the door, staring at it intently – almost angrily.

Tom found her incredibly annoying and if she weren't a customer he would have cursed her answers out of her by now! This mere _girl _didn't know who she was messing with.

Before Tom could ask how she knew Dumbledore and _where _she actually came from, Burke announced his return, causing Hermione to quickly turn around and… _did she just sigh in relief_? Tom wondered with annoyance. If anything, he should be relieved to get away from her! Who, in Salazar's name did the chit think she was exactly?

"Mr Burke, I presume?" she quickly stepped towards him, and Tom noted in annoyance how her entire demeanor changed around Burke.

"Yes… you are Dumbledore's Ms Edwards?" he questioned.

"Yes. Thank you for meeting with me," she replied in a genuine tone, which for some reason annoyed Tom even more.

"Not a problem. Sorry to have kept you waiting, but Mr Riddle was here…" Burke continued as he shuffled through the shop.

"Yes, he certainly was able to keep me company," she replied with what Tom recognised as false cheer. He only recognised it because that was the fake tone _he _used on people, which only made him more indignant.

"Well, good," Burke replied, not picking up on her undertones. "Come through to my office, we can discuss the book and its care requirements there," he said and beckoned for her to follow.

Tom eyed the witch as she quickly scurried after Burke, not even giving him a second glance. This, for some reason, annoyed Tom immensely. They entered his office, shutting the door, leaving Tom alone out in the shop.

_Well, my day just became a whole lot more interesting_, he thought, as he went back to his book and awaited their re-emergence. 

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><p>When they finally re-emerged from the office almost 40 minutes later, Tom noted with amusement the now angry expression on Hermione's face.<p>

"But you told Dumbledore that it would only cost 35 galleons! I cannot afford 60 galleons!" she exclaimed. "Why has the price changed?"

Burke eyed her with a smirk. "Well I had another customer come in just the other day who really wanted the book and was willing to pay more."

Tom knew Burke was lying. He _always _did this. He knew that if the person wanted the object enough they would pay the extra. People never came to Borgin and Burkes to window shop. He then watched as Hermione looked at Burke with absolute fury. He almost thought he saw her crazy hair crackle in annoyance.

"I _need _this book. I cannot afford 60 galleons!" she gritted out.

Burke simply shrugged. "Well unless you can either get a loan or have something to possibly trade I can't sell it for 35 galleons anymore."

Tom watched Hermione closely. He was fascinated to note that her expression quickly changed from absolute fury to sadness, as though something had just snapped within her. She appeared to be deep in thought, and fingered the small beaded hand bag that she carried. Suddenly, she appeared to thinking of something.

"If I did have something of value to trade, how much would I need to pay?" she asked with renewed determination in her voice.

"Depends on what it is," Burke answered.

Hermione looked as though she struggling to decide something. Tom watched with keen interest as she sat her beaded bag on the table and pulled her wand out. Opening the bag Tom saw her point her wand in the bag.

"_Accio Deluminator," s_he whispered. A small device that looked like a muggle cigarette lighter suddenly appeared in her hand. She looked as though she was debating with herself to hand it over.

"What's that then?" Burke questioned and Tom leaned forward to gain a better look – an action which instantly earned him a dirty look from Hermione.

"It's called a Deluminator… it removes light sources from immediate surroundings," she explained and Tom noted, that she eyed it as if she didn't want to let it go.

"Let's have a look then," Burke said, gesturing for her to hand over the item. She went to hand it to him, but then stopped and looked at it longingly. She then held it in the air, flicked it and the shop was suddenly cloaked in darkness.

Tom looked around and in slight alarm. _What a useful item!_ he thought, just before he heard her click the item again and the light returned to the room.

"We could sell you the book for 20 Galleons if you hand over that item too," Burke then said.

Hermione seemed to stop and look sadly down at the item. Tom noticed that her eyes looked slightly watery and her hands trembled, before she took a deep breath and her determined looking resolve was back.

"Okay," she whispered, and pulled out a change purse to pay for the item.

Tom watched as Burke smirked smugly at what he believed had been a successful deal. He then pulled out the book that this girl was so desperate to purchase. Tom eyed the title "_Magick most Volatile: Ancient Runes_"… Tom was puzzled… she wanted to give up that Deluminator for _that _book? Tom had read that book and had never thought much of it… perhaps he had missed something though? He almost huffed out loud, but managed to control himself as a flash of annoyance swept through him at the thought he may have missed something in that book.

"Well, great doing business with you Ms Edwards… Tom, sort out the payment please. I have some paperwork to deal with out the back." Burke ordered and without a second glance at Tom or Hermione, he went back through the back door, leaving Tom alone with Hermione again.

Hermione quickly slid the money across the counter, but he noted that she seemed to physically struggle with handing him the deluminator.

"You must really need that book if you are willing to depart with something you obviously value so highly," Tom observed out loud, rather candidly, for a change. Well, he figured it wasn't as if this girl would become a regular 'wheeler and dealer' in the store – unlike the Malfoys, for example.

Hermione looked up at him and then pushed the item across the counter. "It belonged to someone I care about deeply," she replied, and he watched her struggle as her eyes became a bit watery at her words. Tom felt like rolling his eyes, she was a perfect example as to why caring was a weakness and a waste of time, in his opinion.

But instead of sneering at her, he found himself saying, "Perhaps when you make some more money you can come and buy it back." It wasn't as though he _cared _whether she bought it back or not though… that was a standard line to give to customers giving up something they held dear.

"Yes. Well… along with everything else that requires funds, we'll see," she replied in a clipped tone.

"Are you moving here?" Tom asked with sudden interest. He could tell that this girl had a lot of secrets. For starters, why was Dumbledore helping her? Why was she selling such an interesting item for _that _book? Tom wasn't embarrassed to admit that he was curious by nature and wanted to know everything.

She looked at him evasively before answering in a quiet voice. "Yes, but I won't be staying for long," she said as she pocketed the book and prepared to leave.

"Oh, well perhaps we may see each other around," Tom replied politely. _And I can question you outside of this setting…_

The girl looked incredulously at him. "Somehow I highly doubt _that_," she replied haughtily, causing Tom to almost flinch in anger at her tone. _Who was this infuriating girl? And why did she have so much attitude? _Particularly towards him?

"Oh, you never know Ms Edwards," Tom replied, allowing his voice to play emphasis on her last name – which interestingly enough made her blush. What for, he didn't know.

She was brusque and business like all of a sudden. "Well I really must be on my way. Thank you Mr Riddle," she replied and quickly walked towards the door.

"It was _my _pleasure Ms Edwards," Tom replied as he watched her retreating form. He was sure he had heard her mutter something unintelligible under her breath at that, but before he could ask what she had said, she was already out the door – nothing but a bundle of robes and crazy, crackling hair.

For a while Tom stared after the door. That little slip of a bossy girl had been the most interesting customer the shop had seen in some time. The girl seemed to be a puzzle of sorts. Well, maybe she would be back to reclaim her precious item.

Of course, Tom would never admit that he hoped she would come back. 

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Reviews are always welcome :)<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello amazing readers. Thank you so much for the positive feedback on ch1! it was way more than what I could ever expect and it certainly made me write ch2 much faster... **

**Thank you to: NS, Smithback, Megii_of_Mysteri_OusStranger, skopde, Dream_a_Dream123, Lucklily, LadyBookworm80, Zombie_Reine, mekom, gleeislove, HereToRead84, Shamonti, KatieMarrie, NimahVicious, YearOfJudges, LeahHeartsTomRiddle, Ikuni_Hattori, e_m_o_m_i_n_t, BoulderGirl1059, Kelly_Starr, abcdreamer and amilie481516 for all reading and leaving a review :D**

**Also thank you to all who favourited or alerted this story.**

********Disclaimer****:** ******This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**  
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><p><strong>AN: **Where we find out how our Heroine ended up in the forties….

_This life well it's slipping right through my hands__ / __these days turned out nothing like I had planned – Powderfinger (These Days)_

…. The year 2000: aka 'the future' or, ahem, Hermione's past…

"This had better be good!" Hermione blustered as she left her office for the day and followed Zacharias Smith down the halls at the Department of Mysteries. "I have a dinner with Ron in less than 30 minutes…" She grumbled as she adjusted her bag and robes.

"Really, Granger! As if I wouldn't be showing you something important… you _do_ _know _that I am working on a very important project at the moment." Zacharias replied in his usual pompous voice.

_"I know you're a great big prat, that's what I know…"_ Hermione muttered under her breath as she followed her most detested work colleague down the bowels of level nine.

Hermione Granger had been working with the Department of Ministries since graduating from Hogwarts one year after the war had ended. When her three year graduate program came to an end she would become a fully-fledged Unspeakable.

Of course, it was a strange path to take, as many envisaged Hermione taking a job in either Magical Law Enforcement or something related to fighting for the rights of Magical Creatures. But the Department of Mysteries offered Hermione a role she just simply couldn't refuse; research to her hearts content on the most strange and intriguing issues and get paid for it! Hermione loved solving problems, and there was nothing more satisfying than working out some of the wizarding world's biggest mysteries.

Yes, her life was going to plan – just as she wanted. She had an exciting job, great friends and she was sure Ron was about to propose… it _was _their anniversary dinner after all… and well, doing the washing last week she had emptied his pockets and found the most beautiful diamond ring… Though, Ron _didn't _need to know that _she _knew, and she had even been practicing her best 'surprised' face especially for tonight's dinner. So yes, everything was indeed perfect.

Well everything except for having to work with Zacharias Smith, she thought in annoyance as she watched his over-inflated head bobble up and down as he walked ahead of her. Hermione had thought he was bad enough at school, but then she found out he had been put on the same graduate program as her. For the last year and a bit she had had to listen to his never-ending stories of how wonderful he was… at least at Hogwarts he could be avoided! _Merlin, he makes Draco Malfoy look humble! _She thought in annoyance as he began another long-winded monologue on his latest project…

"You won't believe it Granger, once you see it!" He exclaimed as Hermione rolled her eyes and continued following him.

"Well, what can you tell me about it then?" Hermione caved, her curiosity finally getting the better of her.

"Oh I can't just _tell _you. It has to be seen." He responded seriously, causing Hermione to click her tongue in annoyance.

"Fine." She sighed and proceeded to follow him.

They continued travelling through the myriad of halls and entrance ways before Hermione found herself standing outside the Chamber of Death.

"Here we are." He announced.

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. "I didn't know you were working on a project related to this." She said and gestured towards the door.

"Well, with all due respect Granger," Zacharias chuckled, "I have no idea what projects you're currently working on either…"

Hermione huffed slightly, feeling a bit silly for even making the comment considering that they were both Unspeakables in training, and secrecy was the name of their game.

As he opened the door and gestured for Hermione to enter, she couldn't help but feel a cold shiver run down her spine at the thought of being here again. _This is where Sirius died,_ she immediately thought, and protectively wrapped her arms around her middle.

Zacharias looked at her with what seemed like a semblance of concern. "Alright there, Granger?" He asked.

"Yeah, yeah I'll be fine. You have to admit, this place is awfully eerie." She said as she looked around.

The blonde man shrugged his shoulders with indifference. "To be honest, I've been coming in and out of here for the last six months. I guess it doesn't affect me anymore."

"So what have I come to see then?" She asked rather brusquely. The fact that she could now _hear _soft voices coming from the veil made her feel incredibly uneasy. She recalled that the last time she had been in this chamber, during her sixth year at Hogwarts, only Harry and Luna could hear the voices.

"Well, it's strange really. When I first started coming down here and conducting research, the veil itself had a rather sleek black sheen to it," He explained and Hermione nodded, remembering the colour herself. "As you can see, there is a red tinge to it now." He said, as he gestured to the veil.

"What research are you actually doing on it?" Hermione asked.

"It's research that has been going on forever… I'm basically just continuing on with it. They want to know what is _in _the actual veil."

Hermione spluttered. "I'm sorry – what?"

He chuckled at her response. "Yeah, it hasn't been easy… especially considering the fact that you can't exactly go off and explore inside it."

Hermione's brow furrowed as she stared at it; surely enough, there was a red glimmer in the veil. "When did this colour change occur?" She asked, absentmindedly stepping closer and looking up in the direction of the dais – her natural curiosity taking over.

"Well it – ah," Zacharias paused, a red tinge on his cheeks, "I tried some spells on it-"

"You did what?" Hermione screeched, interrupting him.

He turned an even brighter red. "How was I to know that any of _my _magic would affect it in such a way?"

"You can't do that! You can't just _'cast some magic'_ on something like The Veil, you dolt!"

"Now listen here Granger! We all can't be as perfect as you!"

"It's not about being perfect Zacharias!" Hermione's voice was becoming more high-pitched and shrill by the second. "It's about knowing your magical limits… _Merlin_, I can't believe you thought you could cast magic on THE VEIL!"

"Well excuse me! _'Miss-I-am-so-smart'_, I was desperate okay? They are demanding results upstairs!" Zacharias exclaimed, whilst gesturing his hands in an upwards manner.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well how am I supposed to know how to help you? I assume that's why I am here?" At his nod, Hermione groaned. "What kind of magic did you use on it?" She asked quietly, rubbing her temple in exasperation.

"Well, the thing about that is..." He trailed off and looked anywhere except where Hermione was currently standing in front of him, tapping her foot in annoyance.

"_Zacharias Smith_, answer me!"

"Okay, okay!" Zacharias held his hands up in surrender. "It's really old magic I found in some notes from previous researchers…"

"Do you have it here with you?" Hermione asked whilst nodding towards the folder he was carrying.

"Yes." He confirmed, opening the folder and quickly flicking through a number of notes, whilst Hermione checked the time. _Merlin!_ If they didn't hurry up, she'd be late for her own engagement dinner!

Zacharias finally found the particular parchment he was searching for and plucked it out of the folder he was carrying. "Here, I'm pretty sure this is it." He said as he handed it over to Hermione.

"You're 'pretty' sure?" She asked incredulously.

"Well... yes! I mean it was a rather late night when I went through it… but I'm sure!"

"Just give it here."

Zacharias handed the parchment to Hermione, who quickly scanned it before looking up at him.

"Certainly no _accio_, is it?" Zacharias tried to joke, but was quickly silenced by Hermione's glare.

"What do you mean by _accio_?" Hermione asked, a frown line appearing between her brows.

Zacharias stepped up next to her and pointed to a particular line of text. "It's all related to ancient summoning rituals. I thought that maybe I could summon a- "

"Merlin! You weren't trying to summon a _person _were you?" Hermione yelled over top of him.

"No! Of course not… that's just, well… that's just creepy!" Zacharias blanched. "I thought… you know, considering how long the Ministry has been trying to find out its secrets that surely people would have sent objects into it so I thought I would try something to summon them back."

"Do you have any idea how arrogant that is?" Hermione said angrily. "How can you be so blasé about this?"

Zacharias huffed in indifference. "It's not arrogant! I was good enough to be selected for this program – _like _you – and I was specially selected to work on this project."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm very sure that as soon as they find out what you've done they are going to be re-thinking allowing you to work on this project."

"Wh-What do you mean?"

"Well, you'll be telling them of course, tomorrow. If you don't, _I will._" Hermione replied resolutely.

"But I thought you were going to help-" Zacharias began to say, but was interrupted as a vibration suddenly travelled through the chamber, causing them to both spin around and stare back at the Veil in shock.

"Did you feel that?" Hermione asked, as she stared up at the Veil.

"Yeah…" He replied, staring as well, though unlike Hermione, taking a step backwards – away from the Veil.

"Has it done this before?"

"Not that I've encountered."

"_Merlin_, we really need to tell management then." Hermione sighed.

"We can't! I'll lose my job!" Zacharias panicked. "Can't you at least try something?"

"You just felt how unstable it is! It's a gre-" Hermione had to grab onto Zacharias' shoulder for support as another, much stronger vibration travelled through the chamber. "We need to get out of here!" She found herself yelling in panic.

"I don't-" Zacharias began to say, but the chamber vibrated again, but this time it didn't stop shaking. He shot Hermione a look of panic, who by this time had drawn her wand.

Hermione stared back at the Veil in shock. It was actually physically moving… _How the hell did a wizard like Zacharias Smith manage to cause this level of trouble? _She quickly turned to Zacharias, who was staring at the veil with terrified eyes. She placed both her hands on his shoulders and shook him hard. "We have to move! NOW!" She yelled over the sound of the stone work in the chamber creaking and vibrating.

Zacharias didn't need to be told twice as Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the exit. "Move it!" She yelled as she began to run.

They both started to run, their robes billowing out behind them as they bolted towards the door. They were about 10 feet from the exit when a piercing screech shattered their ear drums. Hermione screamed and immediately brought her hands to her ears – falling to her knees. Zacharias fell with her, his face contorted with pain as he felt the full force of the awful noise that was currently emitting from the Chamber.

Hermione looked up and noticed that rubble had started crumble and fall around them, only barely missing them by mere metres. She then looked towards the Veil and noticed that it was shaking dangerously. _Merlin! We've only got moments!_ She looked towards the exit. If they ran now, they would probably still make it. Steeling herself, she removed her wand hand away from protecting one of her ears and winced as the screeching noise shot through her whole body, causing her to grimace in pain. She quickly cast a basic shield to protect them from the falling rubble.

Turning to Zacharias, and noticing him huddling on the floor, trying to protect himself, she would have rolled her eyes if she wasn't in so much pain or actually had the time. _Was he a wizard or not? _She grabbed Zacharias' shoulder and shook it rather violently, causing him to look up in fear. The noise was too penetrating for her to speak so she nodded her head towards the exit and pulled on him to get up.

He didn't need any further warning or explanation as they both jumped up and began running towards the exit again, Hermione desperately clutching onto his robes and pulling him along to keep up with her, whilst concentrating on holding the shield as rubble fell all around them.

They were so close, so very, very close when she heard it. The explosion immediately took her back to that battle - which she thought she'd never have to deal with ever again. Panic seized her as her steps became more desperate and less agile, her will to live taking over everything else. She turned and looked behind them and almost stumbled as she saw the Veil begin to shake violently as the chamber collapsed around them. Unfortunately, Zacharias immediately noted Hermione's expression and turned as well. Hermione tried to keep them moving, but Zacharias had paused in fear at the sight before them.

"MOVE!" Hermione screeched. "Move! Move! Move!" She yelled; her voice cracking as it tried to carry over the noise around them. Tears began to build in her eyes at her desperation as she pulled at Zacharias, who seemed to have gone into some kind of shock at the sight of the Veil collapsing.

It was all so sudden when the chamber suddenly exploded around them. There was no time to think as they both immediately fell to the ground, next to one another as it all fell around them. Hermione shut her eyes tightly and screamed as her world went blank.

* * *

><p><em>Was there such a thing as pain in death?<em> Hermione thought. She'd always been told that one couldn't feel pain when they were dead. She remembered being nine, and her father comforting her because her Grandfather had just passed away from a long battle with lung cancer…

'_He's not in pain anymore.' Hugo Granger had told her, to reassure her that Poppy was happy now and that he was not sad anymore._

It was a similar reassurance she used with Ron after Fred had died; '_No pain, only happiness'_, she remembered.

Yet why was she in so much pain? _Why does everything feel broken? _She thought; wincing as the pain became worse as she grew more conscious of her body. Slowly, her senses regained and she attempted to open her eyes. Again, everything stung and she groaned, her throat feeling dry and cracked as she attempted to move her head.

She gradually opened her eyes, yet it took some time for her vision to clear to allow her to take in her surroundings. Looking around, she expected to find herself lying in ruins and rubble, but instead found herself – and Zacharias she soon realised – laying on a smooth concrete-like floor in a dark, completely empty room. _Where were they? _She felt Zacharias stir beside her and he let out a muffled cough as he attempted to move.

"Ah! You're both awake!" Came a feminine voice from somewhere in the room.

Forgetting the current state of her body, Hermione shot up – instantly groaning in pain – trying to work out where the voice came from. Zacharias pushed himself up on his hunches and peered around the room.

"Over here." Said the same voice in a friendly, light manner.

Hermione and Zacharias both turned their heads in the direction of the voice. A woman stood off to one of the corners of the room. She was fairly average looking, with long brown hair and a mischievous twinkle in her green eyes.

"Who are you?" Hermione asked – her voice sounding raspy. She instinctively felt for her wand and was nothing short of relieved as she found it on the floor beside her, as well as her beaded bag, which was still wrapped around her wrist.

"Oh, you never mind who I am. That's not really important." She replied.

"Where are we?" Zacharias then asked, his voice just as hoarse as Hermione's had been.

"Well… It seems you both have fallen through."

Even though Hermione was eagerly awaiting the unknown woman's answer, she had had a bad feeling about this, and it was confirmed as soon as she heard her answer… _They had fallen through the Veil! _Hopeless despair welled inside her. _I'm too young to die! Oh Merlin, Ron… _Tears began to well in her eyes, though she quickly brushed them away. Now was not the time for hysterics, and Hermione Granger _was not _– after everything she had ever been through in her short life – about to break down now.

"You mean we're inside the Veil?" Zacharias spluttered, his voice sounding slightly watery.

"Well, that's what your world calls it." She answered as though they were talking about something as simple as the weather.

"B-but I'm too young to die!" Zacharias exclaimed, with a hint of hysterics in his voice. Hermione remained silent, trying to furiously think of a way out… she couldn't, _no_, she wouldn't be staying _here_.

"Well I have to admit that you two turning up _was _rather a large surprise… I mean not that I'm supposed to tell you that but –" she shrugged her shoulders casually, "_fate _has a funny way of working."

"So you're saying that we're not supposed to be here? In the 'grand scheme' of things, that is?" Hermione deduced with some hope in her voice. Zacharias turned and gave her a hopeful nod.

"No, you're not supposed to be here yet. Though don't tell anyone I told you that." She said in a conspiratorial manner. "I mean, you are lucky that Merlin was busy and I snuck down here instead." She replied as she casually inspected her nails and stepped off the wall, walking towards them.

"Does that mean we can go back?" Zacharias asked, with some excitement mixed with trepidation.

"You want to go back?" She asked, clearly surprised. "Why ever would you want to go back, when you could stay here and start your next adventure?"

"We are most certainly not-" Zacharias began to bluster, but Hermione quickly put a reassuring hand on his forearm and gave him a 'look' before turning to the unknown woman.

"What I think my colleague is trying to say is that… we really need to get back. Our work on earth isn't done…" She said meekly, hoping that her statement wasn't too clichéd.

"I don't know… If Merlin found out, I would be in _so much _trouble." She said, unconsciously looking around the room as if Merlin himself would suddenly appear.

"But you said yourself; we aren't supposed to be here." Hermione said.

"Yes, that's true… but still..."

"But-!" Zacharias began again, but Hermione elbowed him and sent him a look.

"Please! We need to go home… it's - it's not our time." Hermione pleaded.

The woman looked at the two of them. "If I send you back…"

"No one here needs to know!" Zacharias quickly responded. "If you do it quickly no one will discover us here."

Hermione looked at Zacharias in alarm. She didn't like the idea of this, but then again, if it helped her get back home to Ron, she'd do it.

The woman stood there for a short time and seemed to be looking off into space. Hermione and Zacharias both looked at one another but were too stunned at what had happened to them to actually say anything. Hermione then turned towards the woman, who still seemed to be debating with herself over what to do.

"Please," Hermione said, quietly, "We need to go back."

The woman paused, eyed Hermione and then a sudden glint appeared in her eyes. "Okay. But we need to be quick, before someone else works out what's going on." The look on the woman's face worried Hermione slightly. "Come here." The woman then directed the two of them to walk over towards her.

The two gave another look to each other before slowly walking over towards the woman. When they stopped in front of her, the mischievous look was more prominent in her eyes. Zacharias gave Hermione a quick side-ways glance, almost as if to check if she saw that look too. Hermione refused to look back at him, too scared to risk their return by appearing as anything other than cool, calm and collected.

The woman turned her head and looked towards the blank, brownish coloured wall to their right. Suddenly a fireplace appeared. Hermione's eyebrows rose in surprise. _What, were they going to floo back? _She thought as she eyed it.

"That's right Hermione." The woman answered and smiled at her. "Why not floo back?"

Hermione gave the woman a shocked look because she had read her mind. The woman simply arched a thin eyebrow in return. "Don't look so surprised Hermione Jean Granger… you think we know nothing about you?"

"Floo?" Zacharias exclaimed, effectively interrupting the moment between Hermione and the woman. "You promise if we go through that, we'll be sent back home?"

"Yes, you'll be sent to where you're meant to be…" the woman answered and sent another 'look' to Hermione, which caused her to furrow her brow in confusion.

Zacharias stepped away from them and walked over and began to inspect the fireplace, lightly placing his hands on the mantel – as if to confirm it was real. He turned and gave Hermione and the woman an approving nod, as if to say he was happy with the fireplace. Hermione still felt rather strange about the whole situation. Where was the drama…? How could sending them back seem to be such an easy decision to this woman? How could it all be so easy? _What was the catch? _

"Come Hermione…" The woman inclined her head towards Zacharias. "Time to go home."

Hermione knew that she was short of options at the moment, and despite her suspicions, she knew that one of her two choices would be being stuck behind the Veil. _Yes, home. Home to Ron. Home to my life._ She found a new resolve and stepped forward.

Zacharias was sent first. He turned to Hermione and smiled at her. "See you on the other side?" He asked, without all the usual annoying pomp and arrogance that he always seemed to carry around.

"Yes, see you on the other side." Hermione had little energy to show animosity towards him – despite everything that had occurred _could _most probably be blamed on him… She tried to banish the nasty thoughts. This would all be over soon. Soon, she'd be back at home with Ron… she might even be engaged. This would all eventually become a distant memory.

She watched as Zacharias threw some powder into the fireplace and followed the woman's instructions. He smiled at her and then turned towards the green flames – exactly like the _real _world and yelled _"Home!"_ into the floo, just like the woman had instructed. Zacharias immediately disappeared and Hermione instinctively hoped that nothing went wrong.

The woman now turned to Hermione. "Your turn." She smiled at her.

"All I need to do is what Zacharias did?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"Sure." She smiled and threw the powder into the fireplace. Just before Hermione was about to step into the flames the woman placed her hand on Hermione's forearm to stop her. Her hand was unnaturally warm and caused a strange sensation to run through Hermione.

"Hermione, do you see that fate sometimes leads us to different things?" She asked.

"Wh-what do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"I know you, Hermione Jean Granger. I know you think that fate, prophecies and so on are all rubbish." She smiled at her.

"I… " Hermione began.

"It's okay… but just remember… everything happens for a reason. Fate _does _control it all. Even at times when you think it's all accidental…" And with that, she let go of Hermione's arm and nodded for her to step into the fireplace. Hermione gave her a strange look and stepped into the fireplace. She felt uncertain of her situation and didn't know what to really do. It's not as though she could just stay there… despite the woman's strange words she still had to try and get home…

Closing her eyes, Hermione followed what she had been told to do. _"Home!"_

* * *

><p>…1946: The past, or should we say Hermione's future…<p>

_Stupid, stupid, stupid! _Hermione thought as she stormed out of Borgin and Burkes. She had only been back in the forties for less than three weeks and was already sick of it.

_Tom Riddle_. She had stupidly hoped that he wouldn't have been working that day or perhaps she was in denial and just hoping that he hadn't been working there at all? She hadn't mentally prepared to actually run into him. In her time it had been a good couple of years since she had had to think about Voldemort… and it wasn't like she thought about him that much since the war anyway. _He didn't deserve thinking about_! She thought, angry about having to deal with Voldemort again even though she had essentially already assisted in killing him.

And _of course _he was perfect looking; she huffed as she walked towards the entrance to Diagon Alley, avoiding eye contact with some of the dodgy looking witches and wizards who hovered around shadier edges of the Alley. She subconsciously touched her own uncontrollable hair as she thought of his perfectly styled inky black locks, and who could forget his dark eyes, tall, lean form and his well-schooled 'Mr Innocent' expression. _Yeah! Mr Innocent working in Knockturn Alley! _She rolled her eyes. Life was plainly unfair to have made someone so evil, so very handsome.

Seriously, how stupid were people in the forties to have fallen for his little act? _Except Professor Dumbledore! _She quickly reminded herself. Of course it was easier for her to see through his little act because she knew who he would eventually become… but couldn't they see how cold and calculating his eyes were? And Merlin! What a nosey prat! She huffed noisily, causing a couple of random witches to give her a strange look and then giggle. Hermione simply glared at them, causing them to titter in a disapproving manner at her. _Yes, definitely over the forties!_

Well at least she would probably never see him again. She had the book now – thanks to Dumbledore – so she was one more step closer to getting home and getting back to Ron. _Whose deluminator is now sitting in a display cabinet at Borgin and Burkes…_ she sighed sadly. Hermione missed Ron, Harry and Ginny especially. She simply _had _to get home… She still hadn't worked out whether that unknown woman in the Veil had purposely sent her here or something bad had happened. Hermione chose to ignore the constant sinking feeling in her stomach in regards to her suspicions about that woman and concentrate on positive thoughts that she _would _make it home… to her time.

Making her way down the crowded street, she noted that the Diagon Alley of her time was not that much different to the one she was currently walking through. Many of the same stores existed – as did some other shops she didn't recognise, which had obviously not stood the test of time.

She was staying at the Leaky Cauldron but realised that she needed to find a flat to rent for the short term. Whilst the Leaky Cauldron had surprisingly nice accommodation, Hermione needed her _own_ kitchen and more privacy. She quietly entered the pub and wondered if she should get something to eat or just head upstairs and get stuck into the book. _Definitely the book! _She thought and made her way towards the stairs.

"Ah, Miss Edwards."

Hermione almost didn't respond to that title – _stupidly_. It was the actual voice which said it that she recognised so well. Turning around, she saw none other than Albus Dumbledore sitting at one of the tables, kindly smiling at her.

"Professor Dumbledore… Sorry, I didn't see you there." Hermione greeted as she walked away from the stairs and, at Dumbledore's gesture, sat down across from him.

"No need to apologise Miss Edwards, it's not as if you were expecting me now, were you?"

"No, I suppose you are correct. Please Professor, call me Hermione… _Edwards _is rather hard to get used to." She replied with a small smile as Dumbledore waved his hand at Tom the bar man and suddenly a butterbeer and what appeared to be chicken broth appeared in front of Hermione.

"Very well Hermione." Dumbledore replied, eyes twinkling, and then waved a non-verbal _muffliato_ around the two of them. "I apologise for coming to see you without notifying you first. I merely wanted to check on how you were settling in and how your expedition went at Borgin and Burkes."

"Well I got the book, though Burke conveniently put the price up," Hermione began to say unhappily after taking a sip of her drink. She noted that Dumbledore frowned at this news. "Luckily I had something to exchange." She frowned as she thought of the deluminator. Ron had lent it to her a few months earlier for a project at work… she had simply forgotten to give it back to him and it had sat at the bottom of her beloved beaded bag, which she refused to let go of – even though she didn't carry _nearly _as much junk in it as she did during the Horcrux hunt. She suddenly wished she had kept all of that junk in it, considering her current predicament.

"I'm sorry to hear that Hermione, despite my requests and the fact that Burke owed me a favour or two... They are not the most reputable wizards I'm afraid. The item you traded… was it very precious to you?" Dumbledore asked with concern.

So Hermione explained what the deluminator was and that it was someone very special who had given it to her. "Professor, I know that I'm not supposed to give much away about the future… but I think you need to go and retrieve the deluminator and keep it with you." She finished with conviction.

"Oh?" Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow in amusement, "Wouldn't you want to go retrieve your own item back?"

"No Professor. I won't say too much more… but you'll know what to do with it when the time comes." Hermione explained.

"Hermione, it sounds suspiciously like a trinket that I am actually working on at the moment… Therefore, it would feel like I was cheating to go and retrieve it. Though I'm not supposed to know this, and I know I may very well be working on pure assumption, but it is rather inspiring to know that I eventually worked it out… I had hit a bump in the road with its development, so if nothing, it has inspired me to keep going with it."

Hermione gaped at Dumbledore, who merely smiled back at her in return. "If you say so Professor. Though unfortunately, I don't see how I would be able to afford to buy it back – considering I only intend to be here for a short while, after all. Not to mention they obviously enjoy skiving people of their money – which I am running out of fast." Hermione said and looked down at her soup.

They sat in silence for some time, Hermione enjoying her chicken soup whilst Dumbledore seemed happy in his own thoughts. Suddenly Dumbledore spoke.

"Have you been able to think much more about your predicament and how to get back?" he asked.

Hermione gathered her thoughts for a moment before answering. "I still can't work out who the woman was… It's got to have been an accident."

"To be rather frank with you Hermione, if I may?" He asked, and awaited a nod from Hermione before he continued, "I still have a couple of theories to research before I can assist in deducing who the woman was… but from your conversation with her I am starting to believe that you being here isn't an accident, as you believe."

Hermione's mouth gaped for the second time in such a short space of time. Dumbledore believed that she was sent here on purpose? "Professor with all due respect… the dangers of messing with time travel-"

Dumbledore held up a hand and Hermione immediately stopped the beginnings of her rant, cheeks flushing a bit. "Yes, I am well aware of the dangers of messing with time travel… but excuse this old man and the curious academic I have become… What if this isn't exactly time travel?" He mused.

Hermione couldn't help but smile, despite her predicament. "Professor, what else could it be exactly? Time Travel seems the most logical answer."

"Having logic is an admirable trait Hermione, but I think you should look outside the box a little." He replied, mirth in his expression.

Hermione tried not to frown. "Well, once we work out who I spoke to; hopefully the book you advised me to buy will assist in finding the answer."

"Yes, but we still have some research ahead of us…" Dumbledore began before taking a sip of the brandy in front of him. "But enough of that for now Hermione, I believe it is just as important to assist you in finding a place to live and a way of earning some kind of income." He smiled kindly at her. Hermione felt her shoulders relax as she took in his expression.

* * *

><p>Albus Dumbledore stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron, happy to return the smiles and greetings of many witches and wizards he had gotten to know over the years. <em>And there were quite a few… <em>Adjusting his new favourite robes – bright orange with purple moons and stars - he quickly checked a muggle pocket watch in one of the many pockets his robes afforded him.

Looking at the time, he realised he did, after all, have time to stop in at Borgin and Burkes before heading home…

* * *

><p><strong>So there you have Ch2. I apologise for the lack of "Tomione" interaction in it... but at least she does a fair bit of "mind bitching" over him, lol. I did need to build some background that will be important for the whole story though. And it needed to be done in ch2!<strong>

**- So, didn't we all know that Zacharias Smith is a fool? lol. Now we know what stage of her life Hermione was in before she got thrown to the forties. You know, being an Unspeakable would be a bitching job in my personal opinion... why would you want to be anything else? And almost engaged to Ron! Some of you, I'm sure, would say she actually dodged a bullet LOL. And it just seemed "so Ron" for Hermione to find the ring in his pocket whilst doing the washing.**

**- And who do we think the mysterious woman in the Veil was?**

**- Therefore I wonder why Dumbledore wanted Hermione to get her hands on that particular book?**

**- Hermione wasn't too bothered about how she handled Riddle, because she thinks she'll be going home again soon and probably won't see him again - poor Hermione is in for a treat... *snicker***

**- And no, Dumbledore didn't try to hassle Hermione for "Tom Riddle Gossip" when they met up. Dumbledore's life doesn't revolve around Tom Riddle (just) yet, and there were more important things to talk about, haha.**

**Coming up... Tom gets a visit at work from his most favourite Transfiguration Professor *laughs evilly*. Plus, will our unlikely pair run into one-another again?**

**Please leave me a review and let me know what you think, I reply to all non-anonymous reviews, Cheers Shan xo**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello lovely readers, welcome to ch3 :-D**

**Thank you: e_m_o_m_i_n_t, Hanane_EL_Mokkadem, Karleen, Nerys, Dream_a_Dream123, HereToRead84, Megii_of_Mysteri_OusStranger, NimahVicious, Kelly_Starr, Zombie_Reine, Smithback, LeahHeartsTomRiddle, The_Spades_Queen, Shamonti, WannaLove, AwesomePersonlolxx, nibblehead and Ankoku_Dezaia for reading and reviewing.**

**Thanks to those who have favourited or alerted this story.**

********Disclaimer****:** ******This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

><p><em>XXX<em>

_Deep into the darkness where I hide__ / __The monsters are buried down deep inside__ / __You never know when they're satisfied__ / __Buried down deep where the sun don't shine__– Hurricane Bells (Monsters)_

_XXX_

Tom picked up the Deluminator, which had been sitting on the counter since _she_ left the shop and smirked as he re-inspected it. _Serves her right_ _for being, well… __**her**_, he thought smugly and remembered with satisfaction the pained expression on her face at having to give the item up. And wasn't it a curious item? Tom had never seen anything like it – nor heard of such an invention. Holding the Deluminator up in the air, he gave a small _click_ and watched as it claimed all of the light in the room. Basking in the darkness for a few moments, Tom reluctantly clicked the Deluminator again and the light returned to the room.

"Hello Tom."

Tom felt himself mentally jump at the sound of _that _voice. Looking up, his worst suspicions were confirmed as he looked into the twinkling, blue eyes of one Albus Dumbledore. _Sweet Salazar! How did that old coot always manage to __**do **__that sort of thing?_ Tom stared blankly back at the old man, momentarily forgetting the usual charade, completely unsettled by the idea of Dumbledore being able to sneak up on him. _And what was he wearing? Merlin! He should get a one-way ticket to Azkaban for wearing such offensive robes!_

Dumbledore didn't wait for Tom to greet him, chuckling lightly as he took in Tom's usual blank expression. "Ah, I do assume that is Miss Edward's?" He said, nodding towards the Deluminator that was still in Tom's hand.

Tom stared at Dumbledore for a few moments, before he remembered himself. "Hello Professor. Yes, this is the item that Miss Edwards traded in. How have you been?" He asked smoothly, carefully placing the Deluminator on the counter-top.

"I've been well Tom, thank you for asking. How have you been?" He asked with that perpetual annoying smile on his face.

"Fine, thank you." Tom replied tightly, a mechanical smile appearing on his face.

Dumbledore nodded his head, and stepped closer to the counter. "Very good. How do you like working here?"

Tom eyed the older wizard, "It pays well enough; interesting artefacts." He replied and gestured around the shop.

"Interesting indeed." Dumbledore agreed, before changing topics, "Is Mr Burke in?"

Tom raised his eyebrows. "No, he's gone home for the day actually. Unfortunately he won't be back in the shop till next Wednesday as he had business in Ireland."

Dumbledore seemed to muse on this, and for the first time since he stepped into the store, a more serious expression appeared on his face. "That is most unfortunate. I very much wanted to discuss some matters with him. Though all is not lost, as I wish to purchase the item Miss Edwards had to trade in."

Tom was suddenly interested, but forced his face to remain impassive. "We only received the item this afternoon; therefore a price hasn't been placed on it." Tom did not want to sell the item to the old Gryffindor fool. He hadn't had the time to properly inspect it yet.

"Just name a price, Tom. What do you think your bosses would like for it?" Dumbledore quickly countered.

"But Professor, I would hate to name the wrong price and Mr Burke seemed extremely interested in keeping it…" Tom knew he was stalling, but he wondered why Dumbledore was even here. _Was it because of that bossy little chit?_

Dumbledore smiled. "I'm willing to give you 70 galleons for the item, Tom. Which I know – from my discussion earlier with Miss Edwards – would be a significant profit made on an item which Miss Edwards shouldn't have had to give up in the first place. I am sure Mr Burke wouldn't disagree with that offer either, if I discussed it with him."

Tom almost gaped – but forced his expression to remain impassive. _Seventy galleons! What was the old fool playing at? _Tom looked at the Deluminator again. Why was it so special that Albus Dumbledore wished to purchase it? Tom had to think fast as Dumbledore was now staring at him with an expectant expression on his face.

"I'm certain it is an offer that Mr Burke would accept." Tom gritted out in the most pleasant tone he could muster. He certainly did not want to be on the end of a lecture from his boss if Dumbledore went ahead and told Burke that Tom had refused to sell it to the old coot. He knew Burke would be over the moon with such a sale – he hadn't been that enamoured with the item, unlike Tom. He had hoped Dumbledore would be put off buying it if Tom stalled, but that certainly didn't seem to be the case.

"Excellent. Such a fascinating item!" Dumbledore clasped his hands together happily.

Tom smiled mechanically and began organising the sale. "Yes, it is a fascinating item. Miss Edwards seemed devastated to have to part with it." Tom commented. He was now very interested in finding out the connection between that annoying little witch and Dumbledore.

Dumbledore eyed Tom. "Yes. Well, we all find it difficult to part with things that hold a significant sentimental value to us."

_Darn it! _Tom thought furiously, _why didn't the old codger ever give any useful information? Why does he always use annoying analogies?_ He had to take a new tactic. "Will Miss Edwards be going to Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore pulled out a small pouch and began counting the money owed. "No, no. Miss Edwards has completed her education." He answered jovially, and handed Tom the correct money.

"Oh. She just seems so young to be out on her own." Tom commented, allowing the right levels of concern to lace his tone.

"I'm sure Miss Edwards will settle in soon, Tom." Dumbledore replied.

"Oh, settle in? She divested to me that she was only staying in London for a short time…" Tom continued with his innocent act. He knew that Dumbledore had never completely trusted him, but none-the-less, it wasn't as if his questions were _outwardly _inappropriate or anything.

"Oh I couldn't be sure to say, Tom." Dumbledore replied, looking thoughtful. "Miss Edwards certainly has her own ideas on how things should work." He added with amusement.

"How do you know her Professor?" Tom asked, trying to keep the curiosity out of his voice. "Of course, if you don't mind me asking." He quickly added, sounding as modest as possible, though he knew he would probably have to stop asking questions soon.

"Miss Edwards contacted me a short while ago to work on an academic project. She needed some advice. An absolutely delightful young lady, wouldn't you say Tom?"

"She seemed very... determined, Professor." Tom replied nonchalantly, trying to analyse the small scraps of information that Dumbledore had just provided. _Academic project? _Tom gave a mental snort… he highly doubted that.

"Yes, that she is." Dumbledore chuckled, before reaching into his hideous robes and pulling out a muggle pocket-watch. "Well Tom, now that this is all taken care of… I'm afraid I must leave, as I have a meeting at the Ministry." He explained.

Tom pasted a polite smile on his face and handed Dumbledore the Deluminator. "Of course Professor. Shall I tell Mr Burke that you stopped by?"

"Yes, please do that Tom. Well I must be on my way. Do take care." Dumbledore smiled, but Tom noticed that the smile wasn't as jovial as what it would have been for anyone else… _Not _that Tom cared, though.

"Thank you Professor. Please pass on my regards to the other teachers when school goes back in the next couple of weeks."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Ah yes, will do Tom. Unfortunately poor Horace is still utterly inconsolable over the fact that you didn't take one of the many graduate offers from the Ministry."

Tom clenched his jaw. He was starting to become slightly tired of the many raised eyebrows he received over taking a job in a shop over one of the many job offers at the Ministry. "Surely Professor, you - of all people - must understand that the Ministry is not for everyone." The last person he needed to have judging him now was that Grffindor fool.

Dumbledore, who had been cheerfully making his way out of the shop, turned and eyed Tom soberly. "Of course Tom, there are many paths a wizard as bright as you could take." Whilst his voice did not betray his usual cheery disposition, Tom noted that Dumbledore's eyes said something else completely. Oh, how it made him want to curse him! However, before Tom could react Dumbledore gave him a smile and then bid the Slytherin Heir a polite farewell before leaving the shop.

For the second time that day, Tom was left staring at the door. _What in Merlin's name was going on? _Tom sneered, that old coot always made him feel so uncomfortable – like he knew every single one of Tom's secrets… and Tom _did _have a few secrets.

But what was the big secret in all of this? Why was that girl receiving help from Dumbledore? Not that the old coot wasn't helpful – no, in fact, it seemed to be one of many consistently annoying personality traits of his whole goody two-shoes Gryffindor act. But going out of his way to purchase that Deluminator to what… give it back to the little witch? That's certainly what Tom gleaned from what Dumbledore had said.

What was a young witch like her doing in London not being escorted by any family? And having a wizard like Dumbledore, who Tom assumed - quite obviously - did not know her very well, spending what Tom considered was an exorbitant amount of money on her?

Tom mused a little more on the mystery surrounding the witch, mildly surprised that this actually interested him at all. But if anyone could get to the bottom of this mystery, it would be _him_, he thought, rather imperiously. He was, after all, probably one of the brightest students Hogwarts had ever seen – except for _bloody _Dumbledore.

But Tom thought that he was much cleverer than Dumbledore because unlike that lemon drop loser, Tom was willing to use _any _means to get to the bottom of a mystery – including the use of magic that others considered 'too questionable or _evil_'. Tom sneered at the thought, he didn't believe in restricting any kind of magic – which is why he would _always _have the upper hand. Allowing a smug smirk to settle on his handsome face, he thought it was rather a pity that he probably wouldn't run into the girl again. It would just have to be put down as the 'drama of the day', so to speak. _Yes, wasn't it a pity indeed?_

* * *

><p>XXX<p>

… _The Future: Yes, Zacharias Smith is still alive …_

_XXX_

Zacharias Smith was not happy – no, not happy at all. After all, he found it extremely uncomfortable sitting across from a murderous looking Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter, who both currently looked as though they had him set in their sights for their next killing.

"So you're telling us that Hermione and Tosspot over here-" a furious looking Ron gestured to Zacharias, "were somehow thrown into the Veil and he's here but Hermione's not?"

Bob Harrigan, the harried looking Head Unspeakable, nodded his head quickly. "Yes Mr Weasley that is correct."

Zacharias noted that whilst Harry Potter's jaw looked unnaturally clenched, Ronald Weasley's face was turning an unfortunate shade of puce.

"And you're saying that you were both supposed to come out, but you haven't seen Hermione since you went through their… _floo _system?" Harry asked with a note of incredulity in his tone.

"Yes. I even joked with her that I'd 'see her on the other end'… I don't know what happened to her!" Zacharias explained, for what he counted, as the fiftieth time since he had returned.

"How do we know you're all telling the truth? You're all bloody Unspeakables aren't you?" Ron said, jumping up angrily from his chair and balling his fists.

"Now see here Mr Weasley… this is a situation that goes much above our heads now… Minister Shacklebolt is even involved." Harrigan blustered.

"Yeah! And I'm not lying either!" Zacharias added rather lamely.

Harry, putting a hand on Ron's fore-arm, and forcing him to sit back down turned to Harrigan. "What are you doing to get her back?"

"Well, that's the thing… we need to actually work out _where _she went." Harrigan answered.

"How are you planning to do that?" Ron demanded.

"We are currently going through Zacharias' memories – though they are very hard to watch, as they are very distorted – whether that is from the Veil remains to be seen. This is obviously a very strange case. Unspeakables are currently working around the clock to find her."

Harry's head snapped up. "This isn't a case! It's a person! It's Hermione!" He exclaimed angrily.

"We know Mr Potter… and we'll do whatever it takes to find her." Harrigan assuaged.

* * *

><p>XXX<p>

…_Meanwhile, back in 1947…_

_XXX_

_Tap, tap, tap, tap…_

Hermione grumbled into her pillow as the incessant tapping started becoming rather unpleasant. "Ron… Get the owl…" She mumbled sleepily into her pillow.

_Tap, tap, tap…_

"Ron!" Hermione swiftly jolted up in bed and caught her breath; her current 'predicament' hitting her like a tonne of bricks. Lazily dropping back against the pillows, she held in the tears that threatened to fall – like they had almost every morning since she had found herself in the forties. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she stretched and pulled the blankets more securely around her.

_Tap, tap, tap…_

Hermione closed her eyes in annoyance, wondering who would be sending her an Owl. "Alright, alright, I'm coming." She grumpily mumbled as she pulled herself out of bed.

Dawdling over to the window, the Owl gave a disgruntled 'hoot' when she finally opened the window and allowed the bird to enter. Hermione mumbled a quick apology and quickly removed the package which was securely tied to the Owl's leg. Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion… she hadn't been expecting any packages – could it be something from Professor Dumbledore?

She was brought out of her thoughts by the Owl hooting at her rather angrily – obviously wondering where it's treat was. Hermione frowned; she didn't have an owl treat. Feeling guilty she quickly gave it a plain cracker from a packet she had bought the other day to snack on.

"Sorry, that's all I have." She apologised to it as it eyed the cracker. "I wasn't expecting you." She smiled lightly at it.

The Owl gave a much softer hoot, and then ate the cracker, obviously accepting Hermione's explanation. A loud squawk and it was back through the window – obviously whatever was sent to her didn't require an immediate response.

Hermione shut the window and went and sat down on her bed with the package in her hand. Quickly removing the letter attached to it, she quickly opened it and immediately recognised the spidery writing of Albus Dumbledore. Scanning the letter, she couldn't help the smile that crossed her face as she read.

_Dear Hermione_

_I hope you enjoy what's inside the package, I promise that I didn't cheat and examine it - too much – which is quite the achievement considering my rather curious nature._

_Also, I hope you don't find it too forward of me, but I contacted an old friend who may have some paid work for you. It is nothing extravagant, but I imagine you might enjoy it whilst you work on your 'project'. _

_Please head to Knight's Second Hand Tomes at 1pm and ask for Mrs Valeria Knight, the owner. The shop is a 'blink and you'll miss it' just down from the Leaky Cauldron. Valeria may also be able to assist with some more permanent accommodation for you as well._

_Please write and let me know how you go._

_Warm Regards,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Hermione re-read the letter again, feeling a bit emotional at her old Headmaster's kindness. Here she was, not even really able to prove who she was, and he was helping her without question.

Blinking away the tears, she turned her attention to the simply wrapped package. Quickly opening it, the biggest grin crossed her face when she realised what it was… _the Deluminator! _But that meant… she had only seen and told Dumbledore about losing the Deluminator yesterday… so he must have headed over to Borgin and Burkes that afternoon to buy it! Hermione let herself chuckle as she held the Deluminator tightly in her hands. She hadn't lost it! She hadn't lost Ron's Deluminator… Lying back down on the bed, she realised that she shouldn't lose hope... She _would _make it home!

* * *

><p>Standing outside the small shop at 12:55pm, Hermione agreed with Dumbledore that the shop certainly was a 'blink and you'll miss it' place. In fact, she had accidently walked past it twice already without realising she had missed it.<p>

Hermione gaped when she walked inside; Knight's Second Hand Tomes was not even half the size of Flourish and Blotts, yet seemed to have almost as many books as the bigger shop. There were books precariously piled to rafters, bulging from the book cases and stacked along the narrow aisles. Hermione stepped over several stacks of books as she walked through the entrance and towards the serving counter. '_Unorganised chaos' _was the term that sprang to mind as she noted that books did not seem to be in a particular order, nor did it appear that fiction was separated from non-fiction.

Approaching the counter, she noted an older lady, perhaps close in age to Dumbledore, leaning over the counter reading. The woman was small and petite, with greying black hair loosely tied back, wearing flowing violet robes with masses of silver bracelets stacked up on each arm. Hermione felt a nervous flutter in her stomach as the woman looked up from her book and smiled at Hermione kindly.

"Hello." She greeted. "How can I help you?"

Hermione smiled at the lady. "Hello, I'm looking for Valeria Knight. Professor Dumbledore sent me." She explained and watched the woman's eyes light up at the mention of Dumbledore.

"Ah, so you're Hermione Edwards! It's so lovely to meet you; I'm Valeria by the way." She grinned and held out her hand in greeting, which Hermione took.

"It's nice to meet you. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me." Hermione replied politely.

"Oh, none of that nonsense! Thank _you _for coming to see me. Albus said that you were a rather determined and intelligent young woman looking for work, so technically you are doing me a favour." She grinned whilst gesturing to the crazy shop. "I'm looking for someone who is willing to sort this out."

Hermione's eyes bulged slightly. "I'm sorry, what?"

The woman laughed, "Yes, I know… it's in terrible disorder. I'm hopeless with organisation and well, I must admit that it has gotten rather out of hand over the years."

"Oh. I don't have much experience in how to organise a shop." Hermione explained.

"Nonsense! Albus said that you are highly intelligent… this job is probably _beneath_ you!"

Hermione blushed. "Oh, well… he's very kind-"

"And always honest," Valeria resolutely interrupted. "Albus came to me because he knows that you are after paid work that will not require a huge commitment on your behalf. I can't guarantee that the wage is spectacular, but I think I may have something to else to also offer you." She smiled.

Hermione's eyebrows rose in interest. "Oh?"

"Yes, follow me." She instructed. Hermione couldn't help but smile at the woman due to her warm disposition.

After Hermione almost tripped over several stacks of books, they eventually made their way to the back of the store and walked through what was obviously supposed to be an office/inventory room and up a set of stairs.

"Now it's nothing grand, but I can include it as part of your wage." She warned as Hermione followed her up the stairs.

They reached a rich, dark hard-wood door and Valeria used her wand to unlock it. They stepped into what appeared to be an old and rather cramped sleep out. Valeria turned and smiled at Hermione. "Before I got married – many moons ago, mind you," She winked, "I lived here. It's nothing special, but it has all the essentials. And a bit of elbow grease would make it look much better." She explained as Hermione stepped around her and looked around.

Well, Hermione had to agree. Whilst it was sparsely furnished and nothing special, it did have a certain charm to it, she thought, as she noticed the large window overlooking Diagon Alley. Hermione also noted that the bedroom was at least separate from a small kitchenette, lounge area and bathroom. In fact, from what Hermione knew of this era, the room seemed quite sophisticated – despite the heavy layers of dust.

"It would come as part of your wage." Valeria re-iterated. "Plus, I doubt you will do traditional hours, so at least it will mean you won't have to walk around unaccompanied at night to and from work."

Hermione turned and smiled at the older Witch. "It's perfect. I keep wondering what the catch is?"

Valeria laughed. "Well I'm sure once you start sorting through the mess downstairs I'll have to hide from your curses."

Hermione thought about it. Sure, it wasn't the most glamorous of jobs, but she wasn't looking for glamorous… and it would give her access to hundreds of books! She mentally thanked the shrewdness of Albus Dumbledore as she looked around the place again. "I think you have a new employee on your hands Mrs Knight." Hermione smiled.

"Excellent! Now I can offer you four galleons per week and the room. So you're not paying rent, but I believe that the wage should be enough to cover your basic living expenses." Valeria explained.

Hermione nodded, reminding herself that it _was _the forties, even though it was a pittance compared to what she was paid as a graduate Unspeakable, but it would be enough until she worked out how to get home.

"So if you are taking the job, you can move in when you like. I should take you to meet my nephew, who you'll be working with. He handles the customer service side of things. He's a perpetual dreamer who has no idea what he wants to do with his life… reminds me of myself at that age." She grinned impishly.

Hermione smiled back. "Okay." She replied, feeling slightly nervous at the thought of meeting more people from what she considered as 'the wrong era'. Squaring her shoulders, she realised that she'd have to deal with it, considering she just took a job in a shop, afterall.

They left Hermione's new accommodation and headed back downstairs into the shop. Valeria smiled at her before they walked up behind a tall, rather lanky young man who had just finished serving a customer.

"Tarquin…" Valeria said in a sing-song voice, as she tapped him on the shoulder. "I want you to meet Hermione; she'll be working with you – sorting out the shop."

The boy spun around and Hermione was face-to-chest with a boy who looked to be about 6"4 with a shock of brown curly hair and wide, bright blue eyes. His grin widened as he looked down at Hermione.

"Tarquin. Tarquin Skeeter. Pleased to meet you Hermione."

_Wait? What? Skeeter? _Hermione tried to control her shocked face as she looked at the young man standing in front of her. Does that mean he was related to _Rita Skeeter_?

Tarquin, seeming to pick up on Hermione's expression laughed. "I know - it's a weird name, even for the wizarding world!" He commented, holding out his hand to shake.

Hermione shook herself out of her initial shock and allowed him to shake her hand. "Oh, it's not that, I'm pretty sure that I've heard your surname from somewhere before…" She shrugged her shoulders.

Tarquin cocked an eyebrow. "Really? I've never heard of any other Skeeters and I'm a spoilt rotten only child." He winked at her. "Maybe you are confusing it with another name?"

Hermione smiled. "Perhaps." _Merlins pants!_ Does that mean she was working with Rita Skeeter's... _Father? _

Valeria looked between the two of them and smiled. "Tarquin will show you around and tell you all about the shop, if you like?"

Tarquin grinned. "Sure thing! Say, let's talk about what exactly needs to be done – since my beloved Aunt couldn't organise a party in a pub!" He winked playfully at Valeria, who simply laughed.

Hermione couldn't help but smile. "Sure, sounds great."

* * *

><p>After two hours of chatting and learning about her new colleague Tarquin Skeeter, Hermione had found out that Tarquin was 20, a Virgo, went to Hogwarts – a fiercely proud Hufflepuff '<em>thank you very much'<em>, was crazy about Quidditch and a girl named Melanie den Boer – who he was apparently going to win over and marry '_one of these days'_. He had no idea what he wanted to do with his life, but loved working with people. Hermione couldn't help but smile at his infectious enthusiasm. At least working here with him it didn't seem like it would ever become boring, Hermione mused to herself. And she barely had to reveal anything about herself, considering that Tarquin was happy to chat amiably on almost any topic under the sun. She almost got the feeling that he knew Hermione wasn't too keen on talking about herself, and therefore seemed happy enough not to request her life story.

She was now making her way back to from the Leaky Cauldron with her meagre possessions, ready to settle in to her new abode. Walking back into the shop, she grinned at Tarquin, who was currently serving a customer and continued walking towards the back of the store.

Turning a corner hastily, she cursed as she almost knocked over a six foot high tower of books when she saw _who _was standing in front of her. There, with his head buried in a book, was none other than the future bane of the wizarding world, Tom Riddle. Hermione, without thinking, quickly ducked behind a stack of books and hid, not wanting to have another run in with the Slytherin heir.

Heart beating a mile a minute, she quickly peeked out from the behind the stack and noted he was now placing the book back down on the cramped shelf and walked to another aisle. Hermione looked up towards the rafters… _Why! _She huffed. Why on earth did he need to come into this shop… can't he buy his books from somewhere else? Like _Evil Wizards Incorporated? _She mentally sniggered at her own joke before peeking out again and noticing that he seemed to have vanished. She was about to let out a huge sigh of relief and stand back up when a smooth voice interrupted her from behind…

"Miss Edwards?"

Hermione's heart sank as she slowly turned around and there stood one smirking future Dark Lord.

"Oh." She squeaked, as she looked up at his towering form, which was currently standing right over her.

"Why do you look as though you are hiding down there?" He was looking much too pleased with himself, a calculating glint appearing in his eyes as he observed her.

"Oh! I wasn't hiding down here…" Hermione was trying to think fast on her feet. "I was just searching for a book…" She explained, and grabbed the nearest one, which was sitting beside her feet. "Oh! Here it is!" She feigned happy surprise at 'finding' her book.

Moving to stand, she wasn't prepared for him to hold his hand out and offer his assistance. She crinkled her nose, wanting to refuse – but one look at his face and she was pretty sure he was onto her and daring her to say no. Hermione gave a feeble smile and took hold of his large - surprisingly warm - hand and allowed him to pull her up. Once she was up, Hermione had to stop herself from wiping said hand along her robes in disgust.

"So Miss Edwards…" He began, before taking a look at the book she was holding in her hands. "You're interested in reading about _'The Mating Habits of Manticores'_ then?"

Hermione suddenly glimpsed down at the book and a look of mortification dawned on her face. Yes, there in her hands was _said_ book, with an awful illustrated picture of a Manticore on the front. Hermione could feel her cheeks begin to blush profusely and quickly glanced up at him, noting the triumphant smirk that now appeared on his face – he obviously thought he had caught her out. She just wanted to slap that stupid smirk off his face, so squaring her shoulders; she looked back up at him.

"Actually, yes. I happen to find Manticores very _fascinating_." She replied, in the famous tone that had all too often given her the label of 'insufferable know-it-all' by Professor Snape. "I find it especially fascinating because of their stinging tails." She continued, trying to remember what she learnt about Manticores and therefore, thoroughly bullshitting.

He arched an elegant, dark eyebrow at her. "Yes, I'm sure." He replied dismissively, which angered her even more. "Is this part of the project you're working on with Dumbledore?"

Hermione scowled. "No."

"Ah, I see. I take it you got your Deluminator back?"

_Of course! _Hermione thought in annoyance. She bet he must have served Dumbledore when he went to retrieve it for her. "Yes, he sent it back to me." She replied, trying to maintain a semblance of politeness.

"It was very kind of him to do that." He commented, and Hermione detected a hint of coldness in his voice.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "He's been very kind to me."

"Yes, how do you actually know him?" Tom asked. Hermione could just tell that he was waiting for her to give him the wrong answer, so he could catch her out. _Dammit! _She quickly wondered what the Professor had told him when he was in Borgin and Burkes. Feeling lost, she felt a surge of anger as she looked up into his cold, calculating eyes. _What exactly was he trying to prove? _She thought in annoyance. She was about to bluff, when a very welcome voice interrupted their conversation.

"Tom Riddle? How are you?" Tarquin stepped up beside Hermione and Tom, grinning.

Hermione smirked as she thought she saw an annoyed glint pass through He-Who-Must-Be-Annoying's eyes. Tom quickly pasted a polite look on his face. "Ah Tarquin, long time no see. I'm well - how are you?"

"Great thanks!" He grinned before looking between Hermione and Tom. "I see you've met my new co-worker, Hermione."

Hermione tried to stop her eyes from rolling. "Yes, we've met before. I had to buy something from Borgin and Burkes the other day." She quickly explained to Tarquin.

Tom's eyebrows shot up in interest. "Co-worker? I thought you weren't staying in London for very long?"

Hermione gritted her teeth, wanting to just crawl under a rock and hide until she worked out a way to return back to the future. "Plans change." She replied tightly. Hermione noted the glint in his dark eyes as he looked at her, and then the book again. Now thanks to Tarquin's innocent chattering, she looked like an idiot!

"Well you know, Hermione, Tom and I went to school together," Tarquin began happily. "Tom was Head Boy."

"That's wonderful." She smiled, wanting to go find the nearest bucket and vomit at Tarquin's reverent tone.

Tom smirked and eyed Hermione. "Where did you go to school Miss Edwards?"

"I didn't. I was privately tutored." She replied evenly, extremely annoyed that she had to deny going to Hogwarts. "Of course, I've read 'Hogwarts: A History' out of interest… I know Tarquin was in Hufflepuff… What house were you in?"

"Slytherin." Tom replied and Hermione noted the haughty look in his eye at the mention of his house; again, she had to force herself to resist the urge to roll her eyes at his subtle arrogance.

"Yeah, but don't hold that against him, Hermione!" Tarquin joked. "He's one of the nicer members of Slytherin." He said, nodding his head at Tom in a friendly manner.

Hermione looked at Tom and smirked. "I'm sure." She replied politely – though her gaze was anything but polite. Hermione knew that deep down she should be nicer to Tom Riddle but something caused her to continuously want to be rude towards him. She decided that she would probably have to stop that if she didn't want to rouse his interest.

"So you didn't take a role at the Ministry, Tom? Old Sluggie must be rolling in his potions cabinet about that." Tarquin suddenly changed topic.

"No, I decided that the Ministry wasn't for me." Tom replied with a small hint of tightness in his voice.

Tarquin laughed, completely unaffected by his tone. "I don't blame you! _Merlins Pants, _the Ministry would be so boring."

Hermione had to bite her tongue at her new friend. _Not all parts of the Ministry were boring! _She thought with a huff. Stupid Tom Riddle! Just because the Ministry didn't work like a dictatorship – like _he _wished – didn't mean there was anything wrong with it!

Tom chuckled at Tarquin. "I couldn't have said it better myself." He then turned to Hermione and smirked. "Well, it was lovely to see you again Miss Edwards," before turning to Tarquin, "This store has an excellent range of books. I'm sure I'll be back."

Tarquin grinned. "Yeah, my Aunt owns it. It's not as fancy as Flourish and Blotts but it also sells a lot of books they wouldn't sell. My Aunt doesn't believe in restricting reading material at all."

Hermione wanted to groan into her hands. _Yes, Tarquin! That is the perfect thing to say to Lord Voldemort! _

"Great, I'm sure I could spend ages here just sifting through the books." He replied with a politeness that made Hermione want to vomit, yet again.

"Well, hopefully that'll soon be made easier. That's why my Aunt hired Hermione. She's going to sort the shop out." He replied.

Hermione wanted to curse the innocent Hufflepuff standing next to her. Especially when she saw that Tom now eyed her with an interest that made her extremely uncomfortable.

"Really? Well, it was nice to run into you both." He said and nodded to both of them, before walking out the door, careful to turn around and give a polite smile to Hermione as he left.

Hermione narrowed her eyes in annoyance at the retreating back of Voldemort before noticing that Tarquin was still standing next to her.

"Wow, I'm so shocked that Tom Riddle isn't halfway up the Ministry by now!" He exclaimed, "Lovely bloke, isn't he?" He added, turning to look at Hermione.

"Just dandy." Hermione replied, pasting a fake smile on her face as she tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach about one Tom Marvolo Riddle.

* * *

><p><strong>There you go... ! <strong>**So, Dumbledore (matchmaker extraordinaire hehe) peaked Tom's interest, didn't he (although he tried his best not to tell too much)? Well... I guess it didn't help that he then ran into Hermione at her new work place ;)**

**And yes! I loved writing the 'warm fuzzy' of Valeria giving Hermione a job... that would be _my _dream job! dealing with books all day *dreamy sigh*... and a place to live! So yeah, I know it was a "how convenient" moment but isn't that the fun of having Dumbledore in your story, hehe? **

**Just so you all know... Tarquin will _not _be a love interest for Hermione. No, we will leave that competition for Ronald and Tom *wicked laugh*. Mwahaha, poor Hermione picking up the Manticore book *bangs head***

**I hope you all don't mind non-canon ancestors, but Tarquin had been in my mind as soon as I thought of the story... he is also *exactly* like my own brother ;) As for him being a Skeeter... have you ever met someone, absolutely adored them and then met their (awful) children and thought: How DID that happen? lol**

**Not sure how often I will refer to Ron and Harry "in the future"... maybe often, maybe not. I just wanted to let you guys know what happened to Zacharias.**

**Anyway, reviewing makes me type up chapters faster! SO please review ;) xox Shan**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi lovely people, welcome to ch4!**

**Thank you to Lady Whitlock, HereToRead84, Dream_a_Dream123, Mudblood_Queen, Megii_of_Mysteri_OusStranger, AwesomePersonlolxx, mekom, Zombie_Reine, Shamonti, Nerys, Smithback, nibblehead, Ankoku_Dezaia, Haschenliebe, Kelly_Starr, Speechwriter, CheshireCat23, Caro09, e_m_o_m_i_n_t, WhispersOfTheWind and Felicis_Vixen for all leaving wonderful reviews.**

**Thank you also to those who have favourited and alerted this story!**

****Dream_a_Dream123 has made a really awesome banner for this story. It can be seen on my profile! XD****

********Disclaimer****:** ******This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

><p><em>XXX<em>

_Forget everything and remember / for everything a reason – Ian Brown (F.E.A.R)_

_XXX_

Hermione could never understand why the ache of missing someone was always so much easier to bear during the day - compared to night. It's not as if the daytime made her any less alone or any less prone to her own thoughts, theories or worries. For in this time period, despite the occasional but necessary distractions of Tarquin, Valeria and letters from Dumbledore, Hermione felt incredibly alone.

The last time she had felt this lonely was in her first year of Hogwarts. No matter what had happened since then though, Hermione had always had her friends. Friends who had quickly become her very own chosen family. And how Hermione missed her family! _Merlin, _how she missed Ron! If she got to see Ron again, she promised never to complain about going to a Chudley Cannons game again… she also promised she would never bemoan his obsession with Muggle appliances or the fact that he liked to wear red and orange – despite his brightly coloured hair. Hermione grinned as she remembered the hideous orange tweed jacket he came home with one afternoon not long before she found herself here. He hadn't spoken to her all night after she burst out laughing when he strutted into their small living room, 'modelling' it for her.

How she longed to just talk with Harry and Ginny again. Would they be looking for her right now? Would they be worrying about what had happened to her? Was time passing at the same rate for them as it was for her? Hermione sighed, picking at a loose thread on one of the threadbare cushions on her small settee. She realised that she needed to stop wasting so much energy on this train of thought and concentrate instead on getting back.

Besides, she was sick of the forties. She had no idea how muggles handled this era with the lack of technology – _thank goodness for magic_, she mused. But not even magic could save her hair. Hermione huffed and ran a hand through the curly mass. She had finally run out of the last of the emergency hair serum that she always kept 'on-hand' in her beaded bag. The serum was a modern muggle brand – it was actually better than sleekeazy's. Hermione's morbid mood over her hair wasn't helped by the fact that when she went and purchased a bottle of sleekeazy's the other day; it was obviously inferior compared to the modern counter-part she used for the Yule Ball, because all it did was turn her hair into an oily mess!

She stood up and walked over to the small mirror that was in the narrow hallway between the bedroom and her lounge and kitchenette. She had start work soon, but didn't feel anywhere near ready as she looked at her hair. Hermione wasn't vain, but she had enjoyed a good two year run _without_ bushy hair. Sighing, she used her fingers to neaten it as best as possible, whilst chastising herself for being so vain. _But _the hair was a touchy subject – not even Ron was allowed to make fun of it.

Deciding that would have to do, she quickly got dressed in a plain white blouse and a loose navy skirt that fell just below the knees. She absentmindedly wondered if it would be inappropriate to invest in some men's pants. Work would be so much easier if she could wear pants, but women seemed to mainly get around in skirts in this era. Slipping her feet into some low-heeled oxfords, she headed out her door and down the stairs into the shop.

Stepping into the shop she heard a low whistle sound from the register. Looking up, she saw Tarquin jump over several piles of books to obviously come and greet her.

"My, my, my Hermione! Don't let any of those proper lady witches spy _you _today!" He exclaimed as he sidled up next to her with a wink.

Hermione looked up at Tarquin in confusion. "Is this some sort of joke I'm supposed to be in on?"

Tarquin sighed dramatically and leaned on her. "Don't worry Hermione; I'll see it as my challenge to make you a lady yet!"

"Oh don't listen to him Hermione! He's being crass!" Valeria laughed, as she swished past carrying a pile of new books in her usual purple robes.

"Ahem!" Tarquin began, "A lady shall not leave her residence without stockings!" He announced, whilst waggling his finger, in a voice reminiscent of Narcissa Malfoy.

Hermione suddenly looked down and realised that her legs were bare, indeed. In her worries about her hair, she had completely forgotten them. She looked up at him and quirked an eyebrow. "Very funny." She deadpanned.

"I do try my best!" He grinned.

"Well then. I will go change and be back in a minute." Hermione announced and turned to head back up to her room.

"Yes! You better! You squashed cabbage leaf, you disgrace to the noble architecture of these columns, you incarnate insult to the English language… I could pass you off as the Queen of Sheba!"

Hermione turned around and gaped in shock, before a big grin appeared on her face. "What more do you want sir? I washed me face and hands before I come, I did!"

Tarquin's grin broadened before he burst into laughter and performed a mock bow whilst darting off back to the counter. Hermione chuckled and quickly ran back up the stairs – grateful for his humour.

Ducking into her room, she pulled a pair of dark wool stockings on and hurried back to start her day. She was about to go out the door when an incessant tapping caught her attention. She turned and noted Dumbledore's owl, Worzel, at the window. Smiling at the bird, she went and let him in – noting the now friendly _hoot _the owl now greeted her with. Since she had been corresponding with Dumbledore on quite a regular basis she had become quite friendly with Worzel.

"Hello Worzel, another letter for me then?" She greeted the Owl who held out a small envelope.

Handing him a rather generous owl treat, he gave friendly approval before flying back out the window. Hermione opened and scanned the letter:

_Dear Hermione_

_I am glad to hear you are settling in at Knights. Valeria says that you are already improving the shop after less than a week. _

_I was wondering if you would care to meet? I will be in Diagon Alley today to escort some first year students to purchase their Hogwarts supplies. _

_I will be at the small coffee shop just down from Ollivander's at 9am. They brew a wonderfully strong espresso. The machine is charmed – all the way from Milan and a first in Diagon Alley. _

_It would be a delight to meet and discuss your findings so far, as well as my own._

_Warm Regards_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Hermione checked her watch and realised it was almost 9am. Grabbing her robe and beaded bag, she darted back down the stairs to find Valeria. She finally found her in a corner with her head buried in a book. She looked up and smiled as Hermione approached her.

"Don't mind me; I can't help myself when we get new books." She explained.

Hermione grinned. "That's okay. Dumbledore just owled me to meet up and discuss my project, do you mind if I quickly go meet him? I promise not to be long."

"Of course you can. I know how important your project is." She said, smiling.

"Thank you." Hermione replied and bade her goodbye. Navigating her way through the impossible number of books that still needed sorting in the store she waved at Tarquin who was levitating and sorting some unpacked boxes.

"Where are you off too?" He asked curiously whilst concentrating on the rather heavy looking boxes.

Hermione wrapped her robe around her. "Meeting Dumbledore." She explained.

"Okay, bye." He replied and turned his attention back to his work.

Hermione smiled at him before hurrying out of the shop, desperately wanting to know what Dumbledore had to share with her.

* * *

><p>He justified that he was there because he <em>was <em>actually looking for some particular books that Flourish and Blotts and the less reputable dealers in Knockturn Alley didn't have in stock. Tom Riddle stood across the alley from the small, second-hand book shop wondering if it would be too early to go inside. He had to smirk; it was pure coincidence ending up in that bookshop last week. He had never paid it much attention before – always passing it up for the aforementioned book shops, but he had to admit – whilst the shop seemed to be in complete anarchy – it _did _actually seem to have a good range.

Of course, he then had to run into that bothersome little witch… _Hermione Edwards_. Yes, what a coincidence that was. Tom rolled his eyes in memory of her hiding from him. He had seen her from the corner of his eye when she approached his aisle, flinched and proceeded to hide behind the books. _Manticores mating, indeed! _She was about as obvious as one - that was for sure.

He had to admit, reluctantly, that the girl had been in his thoughts at least more than once in the last week. Her rather curious behaviour coupled with her supposed 'project' with Dumbledore and how evasive she seemed to be when it came to discussing herself had piqued his interest. He justified that he was only interested because at the moment he really had nothing better to do. Which reminded him, he really needed to call his Knights together again. Even though he currently thought that the Knights weren't really a worthwhile pursuit at the moment. Technically it was better for him to lay low, perhaps even slowly _disappear_ from everyone – even his little gang…

Therefore, everything was a lot different to Hogwarts, where there always seemed to be something to work towards – like the Chamber of Secrets, his heritage and the development of the Knights of Walpurgis. These days, he spent most of his time reading up on the places he intended to travel to. Excitement pooled in the pit of his stomach at the thought of the knowledge he could gather from places such as Egypt or parts of Asia, such as India or even Cambodia. England really was just a small spectrum of the magical world.

Just as he was pondering this, the door to the little book shop opened and the recent subject of his thoughts leapt out into the morning crowd and headed off down the road. She had a set look of determination on her face, and he gladly noted that she didn't even notice him standing across the Alley. He wondered where she was going. Perhaps she was just running an errand or something similar… Well then, Tom reasoned, perhaps he could just follow her, find out what she was doing and then try to talk to her where there wouldn't be distractions such as work or overly enthusiastic Hufflepuffs.

Tom slipped into the crowd, always staying well back. He snickered, she was easy to keep track of, given that hair of hers - which seemed to be even crazier since the last time he had seen her. Honestly, why didn't she try to do anything with it? Most girls would have it styled neatly. Not that he even _cared _about that sort of thing… though Tom knew that a perfect image was a wonderful way of deceiving people; because to him, the high majority of people were naturally stupid and superficial.

However, from what he had gleaned from his brief two meetings she didn't seem to be swept away by the 'Tom Riddle charm' that so many other girls had fallen for in the past. In fact, the way she looked at him was like… well, it was as though she was disgusted by him. Tom clenched his jaw at the memory of the look she gave at the thought of even touching his hand. He barely knew her, so what was her problem? Yet she seemed perfectly fine around others such as Burke (well, until he tried to swindle more money out of her) and that annoying Hufflepuff _Skeeter_.

He soon realised that she was entering a small café. Oh, well maybe she was just getting her morning coffee… she did, after all, look as though she just rolled out of bed. Tom chastised himself for even bothering to follow her. But maybe he could work this to his advantage? As he discretely observed her through the window, he realised that she appeared to be searching for someone, as she currently stood on her tip-toes trying to look over the current crowd that was milling in the café. He watched as her face lit up, and then allowed his line of vision to follow hers… _Of course_, he sneered as he watched her quickly walk over and greet Dumbledore…

This annoyed Tom immensely, as he couldn't just approach her _now_. Dumbledore would be immediately suspicious of him – like always – and would make sure that Tom never found out her secrets. Merlin that old idiot was annoying! It was always as though he could see right through Tom, even though he always managed to cover his tracks impeccably. And wasn't it lucky that Tom had the self-preservation to cover his tracks well? As he was sure that Dumbledore would have removed him from Hogwarts if he had had the opportunity. He felt relief knowing that he had made it through his education without the old coot interfering too much.

He observed Hermione sit down and gesture enthusiastically to Dumbledore and his cup of coffee. _Merlin_, Tom thought, rolling his eyes. This girl was like an open book with her emotions. Perhaps this could work in his favour; he wondered… after all, he had been practicing legilimency and was starting to become confident in his learning of the craft. Perhaps she could be his first victim?

Yes, perhaps he would stick around and wait for her little meeting to end with the old coot…

* * *

><p>Hermione stepped into the café and was immediately hit with the delicious smell of coffee and warm breakfasts. Every morning before work – before she ended up in the forties - she would stop in at her own favourite little café and pick up a coffee to get her started in the morning. It had become a habitual routine for her – something she actually realised she missed.<p>

The café was quite busy so Hermione had to step up on her toes to try and look for Dumbledore. Luckily the man wasn't hard to miss. She almost spotted him immediately, as he sat at a rather small table wearing bright red robes with a silver trim. Smiling at him, she quickly walked over to him – noticing he had already ordered for her.

"Ah! Hermione, I see Worzel was able to deliver the message in time. Please take a seat."

"Hello Professor, thank you for inviting me. I must admit I didn't realise how much I missed a morning coffee until stepping in here." Hermione replied conversationally as she shucked her robe off, the café being quite warm already.

"I daresay you've been too distracted to think of such a small thing. Though, I think – even in times of crisis – it is important to remember the little things that we enjoy the most. I hope you don't mind, but I ordered for you – you simply must try the double espresso, I hear it is their special."

Hermione grinned how Dumbledore always managed to dole out small pieces of advice. "No, that's fine, thank you. I must admit, I'm surprised you are still helping students get supplies so close to Hogwarts going back." She commented as she blew on the hot coffee.

"Yes, rather special cases, really… just a few children mind you. It was a case of convincing the parents that it was a good idea to send their children away. You see, many of the fathers fought in the war and still obviously bear the scars and certain suspicions. It's quite understandable that they didn't want their children to leave them."

Hermione nodded in sympathetic understanding. "Of course! The muggle world war only ended a couple of years ago… I hope it doesn't sound insensitive, but I guess I am somewhat a bit far-removed from what is essentially _'history' _to me."

"No, of course not." Dumbledore replied, before conveniently casting a _muffliato _around them. "My apologies. This café is so small; I don't think our neighbours would understand our conversation exactly…"He explained merrily, before taking a sip of coffee.

"Thank you." Hermione said with a faint blush on her cheeks – she had to be a bit more careful! For goodness sake, she was an Unspeakable in training! She should be more careful.

"So I was wondering whether you had managed to make any more progress with that book. I know we have had brief conversations via Owl, but sometimes talking in person helps much more."

"Well I've _finally _been able to translate the book. For some reason it took me _ages_… I have to admit that I have become a bit rusty on runic translation since school finished." Hermione began babbling excitedly. "Of course, who would think such a book would have so much useless information! Especially a book that calls itself _'Volatile'_," She snorted, "Though I think I have found something that might help."

Dumbledore's eyes danced with amusement at Hermione's babbling. "Oh yes, and?"

"Well, the book shows signs that you can utilise Runes as part of summoning magic." Hermione's voice became a little less confident. "Perhaps if I could work out the identity of the spirit – or whatever it is – who sent me here, I could… erm, perhaps… _contact them_?" She almost whispered the last part.

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I must admit Hermione that I never thought you'd go in the direction of summoning magic… Do you understand how dangerous that sort of magic is?"

Hermione's eyes widened, suddenly worried that Dumbledore disapproved of her. "Oh no, Professor! I am not familiar with that type of magic, which is why I wanted to talk to you about it! You see… how I ended up here… well, the colleague I was with – I have no idea where they ended up by the way – was using some sort of summoning magic on the Veil. He said he was only using it to try and summon objects, but, oh, I just thought… and then when I read the book and saw that section I wondered if it _was _linked."

His eyes immediately softened again. "That is incredibly dangerous. As whoever sent you here didn't reveal their name, we have no idea… we could essentially summon the wrong spirit and… well I hope I don't need to explain how disastrous that could be." He explained to her.

Hermione nodded. "I know, and that's why I feel as though I have hit some sort of dead end." She sighed and frowned.

Dumbledore nodded and patted her hand in a comforting gesture. "I know you want to go back to your own time, but to be honest, the reason I asked you here today is because I have become quite fascinated with your predicament and have been doing a bit of reading myself. You see, when you contacted me, I was initially worried about disrupting the time line. I do believe you have heard the muggle term 'Butterfly Effect'?"

Hermione nodded, eyes bright in anticipation, waiting for Dumbledore to continue what he was saying.

"However, as I go more and more over what the person in the Veil told you, and I know I've said this before, but I am starting to strongly believe my suspicions that it isn't time travel."

Hermione stared at him. "So what of the book then? If the summoning spells aren't supposed to help me, what in there will?"

"Well, bear with me… but the book talks of Ancient Rune magic. There have been theories over the centuries that the Veil is intrinsically linked to those who initially created what is the language of Ancient Runes."

Hermione furrowed her brows. "Are you serious? With all due respect Sir, this has never been publicised."

"Yes, well that's perhaps why the Ministry is still stumped by the Veil… and I assume from your story that they are still researching its properties well into the future."

"But Sir! You should tell someone this! This could solve the mystery of the Veil!"

Dumbledore stared intently at Hermione. "Will it really? What's to say that the Ministry working this out would actually solve anything? Maybe we need to save some knowledge for when we pass on ourselves."

Hermione gaped in shock. "But this could help me get back!" She exclaimed. Suddenly she couldn't help but feel the slight disappointment that Dumbledore had only waited until now to tell her.

He looked at her and seemed to pick up on her thoughts. "I apologise for only telling you now. My findings are still very new and have only a very small evidence base. I'm afraid my methodology is still quite crude as well. However, I have done some reading and much writing on the topic. The reason I called you here was to give you my work that I have completed so far."

Hermione blushed, immediately feeling bad for her negative thoughts about him. "I – I…" She began, but Dumbledore merely waved his hand.

"Please, Hermione, you don't need to apologise. Your situation is rather strange, and we all know that strange matters can often cause us to react in odd ways." He smiled, "But I want you to read these notes. I know I can't tell you what to do, you are an adult after all, but it is most important to at least have a thorough knowledge of what you are dealing with. And I just don't think that summoning magic is the key."

Hermione nodded and looked down. She knew summoning magic was known as slightly _dark _but she didn't know of anything else that might help her. Plus, if that dolt Zacharias Smith managed to make the Veil react the way it did, surely _Hermione Granger_, the brightest witch of her age could actually do it properly. But Dumbledore was right. Her knowledge base wasn't enough yet. Dejected, she looked down at her coffee. How arrogant of her to think that she could even entertain the idea of summoning someone… it just, well, it seemed like it would be the missing link to getting back and she was desperate. She heard a rustling and looked to see Dumbledore pulling something from his robes.

"These are my notes so far," He announced. "I apologise in advance for their rudimentary nature."

"Thank you, Professor." Hermione smiled, taking the rather thick parchment roll from him.

"My pleasure. Now please, tell me, what do you think of this wonderful coffee?"

* * *

><p>Hermione was waving off Dumbledore as they both left the coffee shop, with Dumbledore off to visit another friend before helping the first years whilst Hermione really had to head back to work. Therefore she really wasn't watching where she was going when she felt herself walk straight into someone.<p>

"Ooomph!" She suddenly felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her to stop her from over-balancing and toppling over.

Steadying herself against the person who caught her, she immediately began apologising until she looked up at said-person and realised that she had walked directly into Tom Riddle. She immediately pulled away and blushed furiously, wondering why she had such awful luck these days.

"Miss Edwards." He greeted her and nodded, trying to hide his obvious smirk.

"Mr Riddle. Sorry about that. I wasn't watching where I was going." She replied.

"It's not a problem." He responded.

"Well, I really have to get back to work. I'm already running quite late. Goodbye Mr Riddle."

She went to walk off, really hoping that was the last she would see of him but when she felt his hand on her shoulder she closed her eyes in frustration. _Of course _he couldn't just leave her alone! And why was he touching her? He just made her so uncomfortable! She turned around quickly, shrugging his hand off of her shoulder in the process. He gave her one of his infuriating smirks that despite only meeting him twice, she had already seen him do too many times to count.

"Sorry." He apologised, holding both of his hands up in mock surrender. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't." _I already have a bad feeling you're about to make my day worse_.

"Oh. You said you were going back to your work, yes?" He asked.

Hermione simply nodded.

"I'll accompany you then. I am actually after a book that you might be able to help me with." He said, or more, _ordered _her.

Hermione didn't really know what to say. If she said 'no' it would draw even more unnecessary attention on her… Today was obviously an accident, she reasoned, though if she made her distaste too obvious to him, there was always that niggling worry that he wouldn't leave her alone.

"I suppose." She replied tersely and quickly began walking. Unfortunately, due to their height differences, her idea of 'power walking' seemed to be his idea of 'normal walking'.

"So how have you been settling in?" He asked conversationally.

"Fine thanks." Wanting to steer the conversation away from herself she added, "So what sort of book are you after?"

"I was hoping you'd have a couple of books actually. I'm specifically interested to see if there's a one on the history of magic in India."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows in thought. "Well, I can't recall seeing anything on India… but of course, that doesn't mean anything. I've only been there a week after all."

"Yes, of course. Where did you come from before ending up in Diagon Alley?" He asked.

Hermione scowled. _Merlin! He just didn't give up! _Hermione couldn't get over how annoyingly nosey he was.

"England." She replied shortly.

He chuckled. "Well I figured as much. Which part do you come from?"

Hermione thought for a second. "Durham." She answered; well, her Grandmother had lived there so at least she knew the place in case he asked further questions. "Why are you interested in the history of magic in India?" She quickly asked, her voice bordering on a tone that Harry would have described as 'Hermione-ish'.

"Because I think there is a lot to learn from other cultures." He replied.

Hermione mentally rolled her eyes at his neutral and boring response… _What were you expecting? Something along the lines of 'It's all part of my grand plan to take over the universe'_…?

"The British Muggle Government just gave India and Pakistan independence." Hermione randomly announced.

"You follow muggle politics?" Tom asked with a slight hint of incredulity.

"Of course I do. Don't you?" _Of course I know you don't care, you arrogant prat._

"To be honest I do hear about what's going on, but it doesn't really interest me."

Hermione clicked her tongue in annoyance. _Surprise, surprise! Lord Voldemort overlooks the value of something… _"Whether the magical world likes it or not, muggle politics plays some influence on what magical ministries do." She announced.

Tom quirked an eyebrow. "You think the British Ministry of Magic is influenced by the Muggle Government here? Because I would have to disagree with you."

"No it's different in England… we're too much of a developed state – both in a magical _and _muggle sense. But in states such as India, where they are still developing – so to speak – I can guarantee that the new muggle policies on independence will also influence magical ones."

"And what sort of policies will change?" He asked in a disbelieving tone.

"Well, better equality between Indians and the British for one… the British can stop treating them like human house elves." Hermione huffed indignantly. "Anyway, I can guarantee that India is on its way to becoming its own state one day – completely separate from Britain."

Tom quirked an eyebrow. "That would never happen. Britain would be stupid to give up a country as useful as India." He replied.

Hermione shook her head. "It's not about that! It's about giving the Indian people back their country. Letting them run it their way – for themselves."

"But it's not in the interest of the British government to do that." He spoke to her as though she was a naïve little girl, which annoyed her to no end.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Haven't you _ever _heard of Liberalism? You should read up on it, it's gaining momentum." She said condescendingly.

"You can spout your idealist theories all you like… everyone pretends to care about liberalism, but deep down, we are all realists. It's all about power and security."

Hermione snorted. "Speak for yourself."

They continued walking towards the book store, Hermione felt completely irritated at He-Who-Must-Be-Annoying who was currently smirking as though he had won their debate. Of course she shouldn't expect anything more from the likes of _him_. The man who went on to try and take over the wizarding world… who killed- Hermione faltered in her steps and stopped walking altogether. _He is a murderer! _Her mind screamed. She felt nauseous as her mind swam with terrible memories. This was the man who would kill Harry's parents, had already set a Basilisk on Hogwarts and caused a group of children to be thrown into a war that they shouldn't have had to fight in. He tried to kill her best friend numerous times! And here she was having a stupid debate with him on political theory…

_Gods! _What was she thinking? She shouldn't even associate with him at all! Who cared if it was rude? What did she owe him? Absolutely nothing!

"Miss Edwards?" She heard him calling her name. But she didn't want to answer him. She looked up into his dark eyes. He was staring at her with a calculating expression on his face.

"Are you okay?" He then asked. Hermione had to admire the concerned look on his face. He could win awards for his acting skills. No wonder he had managed to fool so many teachers and students in his school days. But she could see it in his eyes; he didn't care. The cold, calculating glint was not interested in making her feel better, it wanted to know _why _she felt that way and _how_ it could be used in the future… She took in a shuddering breath and continued looking at him.

"Are you okay?" He repeated and this time placed his hand on one of her shoulders, causing her to flinch. He was not allowed to touch her like that!

She moved away from his grasp and exhaled a shuddering breath. "I'm fine." She finally responded shortly.

"Are you sure?" He asked.

"Yes. I just thought of something – I'm fine. Don't worry yourself." She shrugged her shoulders and continued walking, not waiting for him.

He quickly caught up to her – _of course_ – and walked beside her silently. Hermione wasn't bothered to talk. She just wanted to hurry back to the shop where there she at least had Tarquin and Valeria to bounce off. Perhaps she could go out the back and even do some inventory? Then she would be able to avoid him completely.

"What's that you're carrying?" He asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence, and pointed to her hands. Hermione suddenly realised she was still carrying the thick roll of Dumbledore's notes.

"Oh it's nothing really." She replied quickly and put the parchment away in her beaded bag. She noticed Tom's eyebrows rose in curiosity at her beaded bag. _Yes, this bag held a library that helped defeat you, you arrogant sod! _

"Is it part of your project?"

Hermione scowled. "Yes. That is why I'm here, after all."

"What is your project about – I don't believe you've said yet."

"No I haven't." Hermione answered, and wanting to leave it at just that. However his curiosity seemed like it would become her greatest enemy. "It's related to the Study of Ancient Runes."

Tom studied her. "And you want Dumbledore – a Transfiguration teacher – to help you with Ancient Runes?" He asked, and Hermione _did _pick up the subtle derision in his voice at the mention of Dumbledore.

"_Professor _Dumbledore may be a master of Transfiguration, but he is also an expert at many other subjects." She replied disapprovingly.

"He'll be quite busy when school goes back."

"He can still help me, if that's what you're insinuating." She replied imperiously.

"No actually, I was going to offer my help. I got an 'O' in Ancient Runes. In fact, my Ancient Runes score was the highest Hogwarts had seen in well… decades."

Hermione mentally snorted. _Oh, how kind of you Lord Voldemort! I would absolutely love to take you up on your selfless offer!_ "No, thank you for your offer; but I feel quite confident with my current workload." She replied instead. "Plus, it's a bit different to what was studied at school." _So take that! _

Tom didn't say anything, but Hermione was sure that she saw his jaw clench at her somewhat condescending comment. At this point in time she had stopped caring. The constant on-edge emotions she felt when he was around meant that she suddenly felt completely exhausted.

Thankfully, they were back at the shop. Hermione exhaled rather loudly as Tom – _ever _the 'gentlemen' – opened the door for her and she quickly ducked into the shop, where a sense of relief flooded through her.

"Ah you're back!" Tarquin exclaimed as she entered. "Oh, hello Tom!" He cheerfully greeted and Hermione had to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

"Hello Tarquin." Tom replied from behind Hermione.

Hermione grimaced. She was feeling completely exhausted after having to 'entertain' the young Voldemort for less than ten minutes. Not to mention she was pretty much back to square one with her research on getting home.

"Are you okay Hermione? You look a little pale, dear." Valeria had appeared out of nowhere and was now standing in front of, immediately putting a hand on her forehead in a motherly gesture.

Hermione gave a small smile. "I'm fine. Just a bit tired."

"Oh darling, did you get some bad news about your project?" She asked with concern.

_Damn you for being able to see right through me Valeria… Please, please don't ask me in front of __**him**_.

"No, no, just a lot more to think about now… Professor Dumbledore has really gone above and beyond for me."

Valeria gave Hermione a warm smile and squeezed her hand. "Now don't let it get too much, will you? It's not as though the project is life or death."

_If only you knew_, Hermione thought.

"Who's your friend then?" Valeria asked, her attention turning to Tom standing behind her. _Friend? I'd rather have a sleep-over and paint my nails with Draco Malfoy!_

Tarquin joined the trio. "This is Tom Riddle, we actually went to school together. Tom, this is my Aunt Valeria I was telling you about. She owns the shop." He introduced the two, saving Hermione from the task.

"It's lovely to meet you." Tom said smoothly. "You have a very comprehensive collection here – I'm sorry I didn't discover the shop sooner."

Hermione wanted to throw up. _What a suck up! _

"Thank you." Valeria smiled warmly. "I'm sure once Hermione sorts it out we'll probably find books that have been missing for decades. Who knows the full extent of what's in here."

"Speaking of which, I'm just going to go put my things away and I think I'll go do some inventory, if that's okay." Hermione interrupted, needing to walk away from a certain someone who was standing far too close behind her.

"Of course." Valeria smiled, she then winked conspiratorially at Tom. "Hermione has made such an improvement to the store in less than a week!"

"Actually, I was hoping for Miss Edward's help in finding a book. Would that be okay before she started inventory?" Tom asked in his best innocent tone. Hermione stiffened slightly.

"Oh of course! Hermione, you don't mind do you darling? You seem to have everything set in your own way… I wouldn't even know where to start!" Valeria laughed.

Hermione gritted her teeth. "Of course, I'll be right back." She gave her best smile, but was screaming on the inside.

She quickly walked off, careful to save the stomping for when she was out of sight and ear shot. Opening the door to the office, she was tempted to slam it once she entered. Leaning against the shut door she let out a shuddering breath and groaned, running a hand through her hair and effectively ruining any basic semblance of neatness.

Why did she suddenly get the feeling that nothing with Tom Riddle was going be _accidental _now?

* * *

><p><strong>So what do you think? Poor Hermione... he is going to be really painful - I can just tell! ;)<strong>

**First of all, I'd like to make a reference to the banter between Tarquin and Hermione at the start of the chapter. It is based off lines in "Pygmalion" which is a play by George Bernard Shaw, but some of you might also recognise it from the movie "My Fair Lady" with Audrey Hepburn, which was made much later.**

**Realism, liberalism... all based around political science... so my inner geek came out with Tom and Hermione's debate, lol ;)**

**Thank you all for reading. Reviews are always welcome :)**

**Cheers**

**Shan**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello and welcome to Chapter 5! I apologise that the update wasn't as quick as I anticipated. Unfortunately real life (aka paying) work got in the way. Also, as a consolation prize, this chapter is much longer than the others...**

**Thank you to: Dreamsb223, KatieMarrie, austiles, CheshireCat23, Mudblood_Queen, mekom, Luckylily, StValentineSt, e_m_o_m_i_n_t, Donna_Noir23, AwesomePersonlolxx, Esmy, Dream_a_Dream123, Shamonti, HereToRead84, LadyNorth76, Megii_of_Mysteri_OusStranger, Smithback, Happy_Skinny_Pants, Apsaras_Yoma, Miss_Tie, nibblehead, ChamberlinofMusic, KThxBai, AvoidedIsland and nym for all leaving lovely reviews.**

**Thank you also to those who have alerted or favourited this story.**

******Disclaimer****:** ****This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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><p><strong>AN:**_ Where our Heroine realises that home might be a bit further away than what was initially thought...  
><em>

_You're the rose / It was called from yonder / Never sold yourself away - Kings of Leon (Radioactive)  
><em>

Hermione leaned against the door of the office and released a shuddering breath. What was she going to do now? Why did he want her to help him? She had been so careful when talking with him!

Quickly making her way up the stairs to her flat, she removed her coat with trembling hands, and slumped onto her bed, trying to calm her breathing. This didn't feel like the other times she had 'accidently' ran into him, she thought grimly.

Putting her notes and bag on her bed, she forced herself to stand back up and calm down. This was utterly ridiculous and surely she was overreacting! But then again… shouldn't she trust the awkward feeling that was currently churning in her stomach? Despite his age and innocent expressions, she highly doubted that the Voldemort of the forties did anything by halves.

No, because people who did things by halves did not set Basilisks onto unsuspecting, innocent school students…

Or have already committed murder…

Or create Horcruxes in their spare time!

No, if anything Hermione believed that in many ways he was more dangerous _now_ than what he was in the future because nobody truly knew who he was, well, except her… _and Dumbledore_. But she doubted even Dumbledore could fathom what he was capable of doing - or becoming - for that matter.

Hermione reluctantly realised that this line of thinking was not helping her emotional state in the slightest. She needed to pull herself together! The worst thing she could do right now was allow her emotions to get the better of her. Allowing her emotions to become obvious would be like setting a red flag in front of someone like Tom Riddle. And despite his newfound interest in her, she felt that she had played her role quite satisfactorily so far. She wasn't going to ruin it now!

Hermione tried to remind herself that this was nothing compared to her fear of him during the war… She reasoned with herself that he probably only wanted her help because he was after the book – _nothing more, nothing less_. And perhaps if she came across as boring and one dimensional, he would get tired of trying to find out more about her and leave her alone. By then, she probably would have found a way home anyway.

With that in mind, Hermione steeled herself and walked back down the stairs. She was careful to ensure that she appeared as unruffled as possible from her recent emotional transgression, throwing her shoulders back haughtily for good measure_. Look the part, feel the part,_ she mentally chanted to herself whilst gripping the office door handle.

"Hermione! I was just about to go check on you, you were taking ages." Tarquin said as soon as she stepped back into the shop. She noticed that he was standing next to Riddle, who was looking intently at her. His stare would have taken her off guard if she didn't already have some suspicions about his behaviour as a person.

"Oh." She waved a hand casually in the air. "I was simply putting everything away. Sorry." She shrugged her shoulders in a non-committal manner and walked towards the last shelf of books she had been sorting the day before.

As she began sifting through the mish mash of books relating Merlin knew what – she was, after all, still sorting fiction from non-fiction, she felt a sudden presence behind her. Spinning around, she looked straight into the dark eyes of Tom Riddle.

"Would you still mind helping me find that book? I hate to bother you, as I know you're so busy, but I would be in here all day otherwise…" He asked, with a humble smile on his lips.

Hermione bit her lip. "Of course, Mr Riddle. Although, I don't really know how much help I could be."

"Please call me Tom… I do believe we are past such formalities, if I may say, _Hermione_?"

There was something about the way he pronounced her name. She deduced that it felt odd because it seemed much more personal. Still, to keep pretences, she swallowed her feelings and gave him a short smile. "Of course… Tom."

His name tasted equally strange on her tongue; stranger than Voldemort, for some reason. She guessed that it was because the whole 'charade' of Tom Riddle that made it slightly odd. She knew that his real character, Voldemort, swam just below the surface… waiting like a shark, using the charm of Tom Riddle, and then striking his victims. Hermione was grimly reminded that she could never let her guard down with Tom Riddle. One wrong move and Voldemort would strike.

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, Hermione realised that they were both still gazing at one another. Blushing at the strangeness of the situation, she quickly looked away and gave a small, polite smile. "Well…" She began, as she looked across the shop, "Believe it or not, I saw some books on various countries over this way, so you may just be in luck" She said as she began leading him to a far corner of the shop.

Hermione found what she was looking for. For once, some books were actually grouped together. "Here we are." She announced to him, noticing that he had remained relatively silent since asking her to call him by his first name.

"I saw a whole heap of books here the other day. Maybe we'll find India?" She asked and looked up at him. He simply remained watching her, expression blank, instead of the books in front of them. It was extremely unnerving to say the least.

Hermione decided to ignore his stare and began magically sorting through the books. Books on Africa, Thailand and South America all flashed before her before she resorted them neatly with her wand.

She thought it rather random, when he eventually broke the silence. "Have you ever travelled, Hermione?"

Without breaking her concentration on sorting through the many tomes, she nodded her head slightly. "Sure." She replied.

"Where have you travelled?" He then asked.

Hermione gave a casual shrug. "Oh you know. Most of Europe… Australia." She wasn't sure if mentioning her travels was risky or not… but in the end, she decided that it was something that he couldn't really use against her. And for Hermione, the best way of emotionally dealing with someone like Tom Riddle was to just speak to him as though he was a _normal _person. _Normal! _The idea alone wanted to make her snicker.

"Australia?"

"Yes."

"What made you want to travel there?" He asked.

Hermione wondered what his reaction would be if she told him the real reason… that she had gone there to find her parents and restore their memories after obliviating them because they ran the risk of being murdered by **his **followers.

"I've always been fascinated by the place." She replied rather plainly.

He nodded his head. "I haven't read too much into Australia. Perhaps I should."

Hermione gave him a tight smile. "It was a fascinating journey to say the least. Their Indigenous people have a very rich history."

"Do they use much magic?" He asked and she noted the surprising tone of curiosity in his normally even voice.

"They believe in all sorts of different things. It really depends on which tribe you speak to. Each tribe considers itself to be its own nation, so to speak. They will often have their own languages and beliefs. The beliefs are often referred to as the _'Dreaming'_." She explained, as she gracefully flicked through and checked a couple of books missing titles.

"_Dreaming_?" Tom asked, with a slight note of incredulity in his tone, whilst he concentrated on her wand movements.

Hermione had the sudden urge to have a bit of fun. "Oh yes. They believe that before humans, plants and animals came into being, their _souls _existed. They knew that they would eventually become physical, but not _when_. In fact, they believe that a person's soul or spirit will continue on after our physical form had passed through death. Therefore, the _soul _is the foundation of their belief system, really." She explained, before briefly glancing at him and noting the nonchalant mask he was currently wearing. She would have smirked, had they not been in such close proximity.

"Fascinating." He simply replied with. Hermione could feel his gaze on her, making her slightly uncomfortable. She briefly wondered if she should have avoided her little bit of fun with the 'soul' talk.

Neither Tom nor Hermione spoke after that. Therefore after what could be described as an extremely awkward ten minutes, where Hermione continued searching and Tom simply watched her, Hermione finally grinned in excitement.

"Hah!" She cried in triumph, as the book flew into her hands. "India!" Accidently forgetting who she was with, she turned and grinned at him smugly. Said grin only faltered slightly when he raised his eyebrows at he and she was quickly reminded who she was helping. "I knew it would be here." She said smoothly, covering up her small waver in demeanour.

He smirked at her and held his hands out. "May I?" he requested.

Hermione handed him the book and couldn't help but note how long and pale his fingers were. She was reminded of watching Voldemort with his long, spidery fingers, using his wand so knowingly; without restraint. She had always thought his freakish hands had been some sort of product from using too much dark magic, but looking at the hands of the man in front of her now, she realised that Voldemort's hands were simply a mutation of the physical characteristics he already had. She then couldn't help but wonder if Tom Riddle held or used his wand in the same way as his future self.

She watched as he silently flicked through the book, his eyes scanning quickly over the information. "This is perfect, Hermione. You've done well."

Hermione couldn't help the cold shiver she got when he gave his approval. "It's not a problem. If that's all, I best get back to work. Tarquin will take care of the sale, front of shop." She replied tightly and bade him good bye.

She had managed to take a couple of steps away from him before she felt a hand on her shoulder. _Again! _She didn't like the way Riddle felt it necessary to touch her. It made her feel too exposed. She quickly turned around and faced him.

"Hermione, if I may, can I ask you something?"

Hermione stared back at him in surprise. He seemed – well looked – concerned. Hermione thought that the expression, which was obviously fake, appeared almost funny on him.

"Ask away." She managed to reply, whilst stepping out of his grasp.

"I can't help but think, by your behaviour, that I have done something to offend you. If I have, I'd just like to apologise."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Had her distaste of him been that obvious? She thought she had been playing this game rather well. Although Harry and Ron had always told her that she wore her heart so obviously on her sleeve. She was, after all a Gryffindor.

"Er… I don't have a problem with you." Hermione said slowly. "I apologise if I gave you that impression. To be honest I don't even know you."

Tom gave a slight nod. "Excellent. I would hate to think we got off the wrong foot somewhere along the line. It's just I have a feeling I will be in here quite a bit, since I know Tarquin and buy a lot of books. I would hate for it to be awkward for us."

It felt like someone had poured ice down Hermione's back at his words. _He would be coming in often?_ Merlin! Did that mean she should get another job? Perhaps even report her issue to the Ministry and let them sort it out? A million thoughts suddenly ran through her head and she realised that she hadn't actually responded to him.

"Oh, no. It won't be awkward." Hermione responded. "It, er, won't be an issue because I don't have any issue with you."

"Excellent. Well, good-day to you, _Hermione_." He replied with a curl of his lips, and before she had a chance to say anything, he was off towards the counter to pay for his book.

Hermione suddenly wished to be swallowed whole into the veil all over again.

* * *

><p>A whole week had managed to pass and Hermione would not admit to herself or anyone else that she may have been feeling slightly nervous about the idea of another visit from a certain, young, wannabe Dark Lord.<p>

In the last few days, since she had seen him, she had gone over their encounters repeatedly. Trying to work out how Riddle would have picked up on her hostility. And she deduced that whilst she hadn't been perfectly nice, it wasn't like she had been outwardly aggressive towards him either.

Oh, how she suddenly wished that she had never walked into Borgin and Burkes, had never accidently – but quite literally – ran into him outside that coffee shop, nor decided that Tom Marvolo Riddle was the most appropriate person to get into political debates with. _Perhaps she shouldn't have started discussing other culture's theories on souls for fun, either… _Because at this very moment, Hermione Granger felt as though she had now made a huge mess of things.

Dumbledore's notes certainly weren't helping her dismal mood either. He was right by calling them rudimentary, because so far, it appeared that nothing was in order, and because of this Hermione had spent the last few nights trying to understand the order of his paperwork, let alone the content. But she couldn't give up hope. The answer had to be in there somewhere!

"Earth to Hermione…"

Hermione looked up and saw Tarquin standing there, moving his hand in a waving motion in front of her face.

"Oh, hello there." She smiled up at him.

He grinned back. "Merlin! It's been a busy morning! I've had customer after customer in here. I think word is getting out that it's not as hard to find our books anymore." He grinned at her.

Hermione chuckled. "Maybe… or maybe because it's the weekend and everyone's about to go back to school?"

Tarquin rubbed his chin in mock thought. "Too true, I have been serving a suspiciously high number of Ravenclaws browsing and buying up big for the term."

"There you go… I'm sure most book stores would go out of business without the Ravenclaws." Hermione joked.

"Hah, it's great to see that Hogwarts jokes transcend to everyone." Tarquin stated happily, giving her a wink.

Hermione, thankful for Tarquin's non-suspicious nature, smiled. "I think I've read '_Hogwarts: A History'_ too many times to count."

"Yeah about that… If you grew up in England, why didn't you go to Hogwarts?" Tarquin asked.

Hermione bit her lip. She _hated, _more than anything, pretending that she didn't go to Hogwarts. She was proud of her academic achievements, for being a Gryffindor and, most of all, making Head Girl after the war ended. But even though she really liked Tarquin, she couldn't tell anyone about her past – it was far too risky.

"My, uh, father was an academic… He felt he could teach me just as well as Hogwarts could." She answered, the lie feeling traitorous on her tongue.

"Oh well, what a shame you couldn't go, we might have known each other earlier." He said wistfully. Hermione again felt guilty about the fact that he trusted her enough to take her lie at face value and believe her.

"Yeah. Isn't it..." She replied lightly.

"Where are your parents now?" Tarquin suddenly asked.

Hermione felt the happiness immediately drain from the room. Her parents weren't even _born _yet. It made her realise just how much she missed her parents. Being in this situation made Hermione realise how much she had taken her parents for granted – just because they were always there. Looking down, she sighed sadly. "They're gone."

"Oh. Hermione, I'm so sorry." Tarquin said, and she suddenly felt a warm, comforting hand on her shoulder.

"It's okay." She replied quietly. "There's no use sitting around moping about it. They would have hated that." She added.

"I'm sure they'd be proud of you. Working on this special project with Dumbledore and all." He encouraged.

Hermione looked up at him and smiled, cheeks flushed. "Thanks. That's lovely of you to say that."

"Well it's true. Plus you're doing an amazing job here. My Aunt couldn't be happier, you know."

"Thanks." Hermione smiled. She was actually enjoying this job, surprisingly enough. There was no stress – unlike her former role as an Unspeakable. She was discovering some wonderful books too – books that looked like they had been hiding for decades. Her most recent 'wondrous find' was a rare fifteenth century book on Transfiguration. She had wondered if Dumbledore had it yet and that night had written a letter to him telling him all about it.

In fact, if this situation was reversed to her own time and she had Ron back, she would consider this like a perfect holiday, well almost perfect if you excused her encounters with a certain _someone_…. Perhaps when she returned home, a career change or break would be a great idea…

* * *

><p>"<em>Legilimens!"<em> Tom hissed as he gripped the boy's jaw harshly.

Antonin Dolohov flinched automatically as Tom's magic pushed into his mind and began sifting through his emotions and thoughts. _Nothing interesting_, Tom thought with a smirk as he quickly flitted through his follower's memories…

_Dolohov with his parents… playing Quidditch… and… feeling up Walburga Black? _Well, Tom smirked… he had certainly kept that little conquest to himself. Not surprising though, considering she was currently betrothed to marry Orion Black.

Tom had been practicing both the arts of legilimency and occlumency since his seventh year at Hogwarts. However, whilst he of course wanted to master both forms of magic, he had been somewhat _preoccupied _with other plans and academic pursuits. Things had been put on hold – _until now_.

He quickly realised - in his early days of learning legilimency - that the skill came easily to him. He had a natural gift for reading people, something that he had honed to his advantage at both the Orphanage and Hogwarts. He was able to tell, just by watching someone's body language, what they were thinking, feeling or even react to a particular situation. Tom knew that once he mastered both forms of magic he could not only read peoples thoughts, but influence them as well. Tom smirked; two things he had a natural aptitude for: reading people and controlling them. He knew it wouldn't take him long to completely grasp them… especially when he had such loyal followers willing to open their minds to him, _quite literally_.

Deciding that Dolohov's thoughts were becoming increasingly boring, he quickly pulled out of his mind. Watching Dolohov sway from the after effects, Tom let him crumble to the floor as he quickly turned to his other follower.

"Nott." Tom nodded towards the plain looking boy with watery blue eyes.

"Yes, my Lord?" He cautiously stepped forward and knelt submissively before Tom.

"How are your skills in occlumency coming along?" Tom demanded.

Nott faltered slightly before looking up at Tom. "Quite well, my Lord." He replied.

"We shall see." Tom replied, before motioning for Nott to look up from his position before him.

Again, like he did with Dolohov, Tom grabbed Nott's chin and pulled it harshly whilst pointing the tip of his wand against Nott's temple.

"_Legilimens!"_ He cast and immediately began attempting to gain entry to Nott's mind.

Tom felt the natural barrier which existed within every person and began his attempt to push through it. Nothing but blank, white, space met him as he entered.

He continued pushing, looking for an opening, or any weak point. _Well, this was interesting_; _nothing but white space, _Tom smirked. Had Nott actually achieved an acceptable level of occlumency for him? He studied Nott's face more closely and smirked. The boy was had started to sweat profusely and looked to be in agony.

Enjoying watching the pain on Nott's face, Tom pushed further and felt the boy tremble slightly. Still, he managed to hold Tom out. Tom wasn't using his full force and his follower knew it. He smirked and decided to up the ante. Pushing harder, Tom felt Nott's trembling body begin to shake violently. In satisfaction he noted that Nott's emotions were pooling to the surface – without his control. Another violent push and he was hit with Nott's fear, pain and defeat. The emotions always came first, and it was only a matter of time before he could see thoughts and memories too.

Whilst impressed that his follower had lasted this long, Tom was beginning to tire of this and therefore, like a serpent ready to strike, he pulled his magic up to its full force and finally pushed through the boys occlumency walls. Nott gave a loud shriek from the pain as Tom quickly broke down the white space and began flitting through his thoughts and memories. He quickly came across Nott's memory of Tom reading Dolohov just previously and smirked at Nott's emotion of sympathy for his fellow Knight. He then saw another memory of them back in Hogwarts, at the Forbidden Forrest, practicing dark curses on one-another. Tom hissed in displeasure and quickly pulled from Nott's mind and pushed the boy away letting him fall swiftly to the ground. Nott's most recent memory had been automatically linked to other Knights business. Tom was not happy at all.

"I was almost impressed with you Matthew." Tom said calmly as he looked down at the trembling boy on the ground.

"M-my _Lord?_" Nott gasped as he weakly pushed himself up to look at Tom.

"Almost… You did so well holding me out and yet, I find that when I do finally break through you gave away our secrets almost straight away." Tom sneered.

He was met with no answer from Nott, who simply collapsed back on the ground, too exhausted to even try to make a case for what Tom deemed as a failure.

"You do realise that any first year Auror could break through your feeble Occlumency shields and see what I just saw? You seem to have concentrated too much on building a wall to hide your thoughts, but I told you to concentrate more on _controlling _your thoughts! You were supposed to hide what was most important!"

"I'm sorry My Lord!" Nott replied, having caught his breath by now.

"How are we supposed to achieve our objectives if you do not _appear _to even listen to my teachings? Did you even read the books I gave you properly?" Tom hissed as he circled Nott.

"I did My Lord!" Nott sat up, facing him.

"You disagree with me?" Tom asked quietly.

Nott quickly studied Tom's furious expression and realised his mistake. "N-no… I-I…"

"_Crucio!"_ Tom hissed. Nott screamed in agony as the curse took hold. Tom watched as the boy twisted and turned on the ground in agony as he calmly counted to 20 before pulling the curse off.

Crouching down, next to Nott's face, Tom placed his hand on the boys shoulder. "Do you understand why Matthew?" He asked quietly.

Nott simply shivered on the ground, gasping for breath.

"We cannot risk being exposed. We cannot risk a nosey Auror or worse… a wizard like _Dumbledore _finding out our plans. I am protecting our goals. Do you remember our goals, Matthew? Do you remember what you are dedicated to?" Tom asked softly.

Nott looked up into Tom's eyes and blinked. "Yes. Yes, My Lord, I always remember."

"Good boy." Tom said and stood back up. "Dolohov!" he barked, "Help Nott up and ensure he is presentable. Meet me out the front. We will go to the Leaky Cauldron to meet Mulciber and Rosier."

"Yes My Lord." Dolohov replied and quickly went to Nott's aid.

Without a second glance at the two, he swept out of the room, feeling confident of his developing abilities.

* * *

><p>Tom sat with his Knights at the Leaky Cauldron mulling over his glass of fire whiskey. After his last meeting with Hermione Edwards, he had called his followers together as soon as possible.<p>

Hermione Edwards had become a _blip _on his radar. She was annoyingly intelligent, insufferable, and brash. However, for Tom, the most intriguing aspect of the witch was the way she acted around him. Her insolent behaviour frustrated him to no end!

It simply wasn't normal for a girl to just appear in Tom's life like she had; shrouded in such mystery. He had a feeling that she was fleeting and if he didn't find out her secrets soon he would always wonder. This mere girl with her obvious emotions and secrets… Not to mention her link to Dumbledore – even though she never attended Hogwarts.

It was all just too odd for someone like Tom to ignore. So as soon as possible, he would use his rather _outstanding _skills in reading people to gather her secrets. As soon as he knew her secrets he would be able to forget about her and find something new to pursue.

"… Wouldn't you like that Dolohov? Then you could get your filthy hands on the Black whore again."

Tom tuned back into conversation that was currently going on around him. Mulciber was currently ribbing Dolohov over what Tom now knew – thanks to his legilimency – was a rather interesting tryst with Walburga Black.

"Don't call her that!" Dolohov sneered back at Mulciber.

Mulciber leaned back on his chair and smirked at Dolohov. "She put out for everyone in Slytherin. Just forget about her and let her go off and _unhappily_ marry Orion."

"She did not!" Dolohov shot back petulantly.

"We have all been there." Rosier piped up quietly from the corner. "Well everyone except-" And he looked directly at Tom.

"Now, now, gentlemen… This is no way to talk about a pureblooded witch… from one of the oldest and most _distinguished _families in Britain." Tom interrupted with a nasty smirk on his face.

Nott snickered into his own drink. "Indeed." He added.

All laughed, except Dolohov, who scowled moodily into his drink.

"Hey, isn't that the annoying Hufflepuff Skeeter?" Rosier said, turning the attention towards the door.

He was right. Skeeter had just walked through the door. Tom smirked, thinking that his entrance couldn't come at a more perfect time.

"My Knights," Tom said lightly, "We shall be making room for one more at the table."

"Skeeter, My Lord?" Mulciber asked, trying to remain nonchalant, though his eyes betrayed his curiosity.

"Yes, I'm talking about Skeeter. Do not question me. All will become clear soon enough." Tom replied in annoyance.

"At least he is pureblood and is actually good at Quidditch – despite his unfortunate house placement." Dolohov said with half-hearted enthusiasm.

"Could be worse… he could have been in Gryffindor." Rosier said and snickered.

Tom almost wanted to roll his eyes. _Oh well, at least their stupidity would make Skeeter feel most comfortable. _

As Skeeter walked towards the bar, coming within a couple of metres of their table, Tom turned and called out to him. On obviously hearing his name, Skeeter stopped and looked slightly confused, before looking around, until his eyes fell on Tom. A look of pleasant recognition appeared on Skeeter's face. Tom then waved him over to their table.

"Hello Tom." Skeeter greeted in a friendly manner before turning to Tom's followers. "Antonin, Matthew, Eli and Leo." He nodded towards all of them, who also greeted and nodded at him in return.

"Why don't you join us, we could all catch up." Tom suggested and gestured to the empty chair.

"Er, sure… I'm here to take food back to the shop for lunch, so I'll just go order and be back." He replied, smiling, and then walked off to the counter.

Tom smirked. Why did he not think of this earlier? He could befriend the loyal Hufflepuff… Hermione's _friend _and colleague… and subtly glean information about the puzzle of a witch through him. Who knew what she told Skeeter? Perhaps he could even find out what her special project with Dumbledore was all about. A rush of excitement rushed through Tom at the multiple possibilities!

Skeeter returned with a butterbeer and sat in the vacant chair next to Tom.

"You sure you don't want a fire whiskey?" Rosier asked Skeeter.

"Not when I have to go back to work." Skeeter replied in a friendly tone.

"How is work going?" Tom asked politely.

"Very busy actually. I think word's getting out that the shop is actually beginning to look organised. In fact I was only able to get away because we were craving the Leaky pea and ham soup."

"By 'we' I assume you are talking about yourself and Hermione?" Tom asked, pushing the conversation in his desired direction.

"Yes, of course." Skeeter nodded.

"How is Hermione going?" Tom then asked, with a completely innocent face.

"Oh great! She's really sorting the shop out. My Aunt is extremely pleased."

"Who is Hermione?" Nott piped up suddenly.

Normally, Tom would have been annoyed at his follower for asking such a question, but he knew it might be an opportunity for Skeeter to unwittingly reveal information.

"Oh she's working at the book shop. Helping my Aunt sort out the mess." He grinned, "She's only in London temporarily though. Working on a project with Dumbledore."

Tom noted the sudden looks of interest appearing on his followers faces. They had obviously now realised why Tom wanted Skeeter to sit with them.

"_Dumbledore? _What sort of project is it?" Dolohov asked curiously.

Skeeter shrugged his shoulders. "Not sure… She's a bit secretive about it. But I just figured that it was some new discovery that she didn't want anyone else to know about. Hence why Dumbledore's helping her. You know how academics can be – right Tom?" Skeeter turned to Tom.

Tom smiled. "Of course."

"Actually! You should offer to help her Tom! You were top of our year and I heard your marks were the highest Hogwarts had seen since, well, Dumbledore himself."

Tom managed to allow a humble blush spread across his cheeks. "Well, actually, I did. Offer to help, that is. She told me that it wasn't necessary."

Tom had to clench his jaw and control his anger as he quickly remembered her veiled insult at him; _'… it's a bit different to what was studied at school' _She had haughtily told him almost a week ago. Tom had wanted to curse the arrogant little chit right on the spot. How dare she speak to him as though he was a _mere _inexperienced school boy? He was sure he could show her magic that would make her toes curl.

"Oh, that's a shame! I guess she really is one of those serious and secretive academic types." Skeeter replied thoughtfully.

"I guess she is." Tom stated. _Not for long though! _

"So doesn't she come from England?" Nott asked. Tom decided that perhaps Nott wasn't so useless after all, as Skeeter swallowed his polite and interested expression hook, line and sinker.

"Yeah, she's from England."

"Did she go to Hogwarts?" Rosier asked. "She must be older than us, because I don't remember a _'Hermione' _from our time."

"No, no, she was home-schooled. She's around our age." Skeeter responded.

"Home schooled?" Dolohov asked curiously.

"Yeah, she was telling me that her Dad was some kind of academic who wanted to teach her himself."

"But Hogwarts is the one of the best magical schools in the world!" Mulciber jumped into the conversation haughtily.

"Well she's brilliant with magic anyway, so I guess she has intelligent parents…" Skeeter stated.

Tom had to agree. From what he had seen so far of her wand work, she was fluid, confident, and he had even noted her casual use of non-verbal magic whilst she had sorted through those books for him. The mystery of this girl suddenly deepened for Tom. She _must _be a pureblooded witch for her parents to have the audacity to wish her to be home-schooled… either that, or Tom considered that she could be a half-blood, like him.

"What's her last name?" Nott then asked.

"Edwards. Apparently she lived in the Durham area before coming to London." Tom answered.

"Oh I think I might have heard of an Edwards family…" Rosier trailed off.

"Well it's not like it's an uncommon surname Eli." Nott snickered in return.

"No!" Rosier rolled his eyes at Nott. "I think I heard my parents talking about a well-respected Edwards family somewhere along the lines." He replied vaguely, causing Nott and Mulciber to chuckle at him.

"Do your families know one-another?" Dolohov then asked Skeeter.

"No. She got the job because my Aunt is good friends with Dumbledore." Skeeter explained.

Suddenly the young men were interrupted as Tom the barman shuffled up to their table.

"Mr Skeeter?" He asked and held up a large brown bag which obviously held Tarquin's food order. "Two serves of pea an' 'am soup with sides of malted fruit teabread?"

Skeeter skulled the rest of his butterbeer and stood up with a grin. "That's me." He replied. "Thanks mate." He said as he took the bag from Tom and moved away from the table.

"Not a problem." Tom said. "You tell that Aunt of yours that she needs to stop by an' visit more often."

"I will - thanks again, Tom." He replied, before turning towards Tom and the rest of the young men. "Well, it was good to see you all again."

"Definitely." Dolohov replied quickly. "We'll have to get together for a round of Quidditch sometime." He said with an actual grin.

Tom would smirk if Skeeter wasn't still standing there. _This was perfect! _He thought. If they could reel Skeeter in, there's no doubt that Tom could easily get information from him about Hermione and what she was up to.

Skeeter nodded at Dolohov enthusiastically. "I'm always up for Quidditch. No doubt I'll see you back in the shop looking for another book, Tom." He then said, turning his attention to Tom.

"Yes, well I can hardly surpass the range available there." Tom replied in a friendly manner.

"Or the girl sorting them right?" Skeeter quickly added with a wink. "Don't worry Mate, your secret's safe with me." He whispered conspiratorially, whilst tapping his nose with his index finger and allowing a huge grin to spread across his face.

Tom's eyebrows rose. Skeeter thought he was… _interested_ in Hermione? In a _romantic _sense? How utterly preposterous! He could have burst out laughing if that was something he did on a regular basis. However Tom simply schooled his features into what could be described as _'polite misunderstanding'_.

"Tarquin, I am certainly not interested in Miss Edwards like that." Tom quickly replied.

"Okay Tom, I believe you." Tarquin said in a tone that indicated anything _but_.

Tom was horrified! He couldn't have that idiot go back there and say such things to that little upstart of a witch!

"I assure you Tarquin, that it's the truth." And for once, Tom wasn't actually lying. He _wasn't _interested in her at all - in that way! He just wanted to find out her secrets, that's all! _Nothing more, nothing less_.

And why exactly would he be interested in _her_? He was Lord Voldemort, the heir of Slytherin. She was just… well; he didn't know what she was exactly. But Lord Voldemort was certainly not interested in courting or wooing girls at this time in his life. Tom scoffed internally at the mere thought of it.

"It's okay Tom, your secret is safe with me." Tarquin replied. "Anyway, I better be off before the soup gets cold! Cheerio!" And before Tom could say anything, the annoying Hufflepuff was already near the door.

Tom scowled into his drink. He _really _hoped that idiot didn't say anything… Perhaps he could quickly go and obliviate the fool? _Hmm it was certainly an idea._

He looked up at his followers who had a mixture of reactions on each of their faces. Scowling at them, and effectively removing any looks of amusement, he downed the rest of his drink quickly.

"If that's what Skeeter wants to think, let him." Tom said quietly. "It will certainly make finding out what the chit is hiding much, much easier…"

* * *

><p>"Lunch is served!" Tarquin announced as he entered the shop. Hermione looked up from her work.<p>

"Oh thank Merlin, I am starving!" She replied eagerly as she got up from her place on the dusty floor and brushed herself off whilst Tarquin set up their lunch on the counter at the front of the shop.

"Pea and ham soup followed by malted fruit teabread." He announced as Hermione stepped up next to him and gave an appreciative look at the spread.

"Thank you for doing this." Hermione said as she sat down on a stool next to the counter whilst Tarquin summoned some cutlery for them.

"No problem, we both needed the break." Tarquin replied easily and began digging into his soup.

Hermione simply nodded and began eating. The food was delicious – much better than what she remembered from the Leaky Cauldron in her own time. Obviously the cook they had in this age was much more proficient.

"So, guess who I bumped into at the Leaky Cauldron?" Tarquin suddenly asked, after they had been eating in silence for a couple of minutes.

"I could never guess…" Hermione replied, really not understanding the sudden mischievous tone of Tarquin's voice. Perhaps that's where his future daughter got her gossiping ways from?

"Tom Riddle." Tarquin leaned back, looking at Hermione, obviously waiting for her reaction.

Hermione held her shock in and looked up at him in confusion. "Tom Riddle?" She asked in confusion. Why did Tarquin think that she would care that he ran into Tom Riddle?

Tarquin had obviously misinterpreted Hermione's questioning look because he let out a long, exasperated sigh. "Yes, Tom Riddle… the bloke who has already been in here a couple of times… _specifically _wanting your assistance." He raised a triumphant eyebrow.

Of _course_ Hermione knew exactly who he was talking about and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead she decided to play along with his suggestion that she didn't remember him. "Oh. Him." She replied idly as she took another spoonful of soup.

"Is that your reaction?" Tarquin asked, slightly incredulous.

"Should I have some other kind of reaction?" Hermione asked, again, feeling somewhat confused.

"I think he might _like _you." Tarquin replied in a _'sing-song' _tone.

Hermione couldn't hold in the snort that suddenly escaped her nose in an extremely unladylike manner. "I'm sorry?" She asked.

"Oh you don't believe me, do you?" Tarquin asked incredulously. "Well explain why he was asking so many _questions _about you."

Hermione's smile suddenly vanished. "Questions? What sort of questions?" Her worried tone was unable to be concealed.

"Oh, just how you were settling in – that sort of thing."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Surely that was just 'polite' chit-chat?

"His friends were there too… They wanted to know why you didn't go to Hogwarts." Tarquin continued.

"Oh. What did you tell them?" Hermione realised the hand holding her spoon was unnaturally tight. Looking down, she realised her knuckles were turning white.

"Just what you told me. That you were home-schooled." Tarquin replied. "Hey, do you know the Rosier family?" He asked innocently.

Hermione's eye brows rose. "Rosier? No… but my parent's might have." She replied awkwardly. _Gods! _These people were Voldemort's first Death Eaters…! She was once again unfairly reminded that these people were just hitting their prime in this time period.

"Oh, that's a shame. Eli thought that his family might have heard of yours." He said conversationally.

"Well, they might have." Hermione said, trying desperately to add some brightness to her tone.

"Anyway, that's not what we supposed to be talking about… We were talking about you and _Riddle_!" He quickly moved the topic back, his eyes bright with excitement.

Hermione wanted to laugh. He had to be joking! There was no way she would ever be interested in Lord Voldemort! She'd rather take Divination for five years straight then go _near _Riddle. Not to mention, she thought with finality, she was practically _engaged… _to Ron.

"What about Riddle?" Hermione asked.

"Well… would you ever go on a date with him?" Tarquin asked, unconsciously leaning closer, awaiting Hermione's answer.

"Er, I'm sure he's a _lovely _guy." Hermione wanted to be sick at her words. "But I'm actually already seeing someone."

Tarquin's eyebrows shot up. "You are? You never told me that. You really are full of secrets aren't you?"

So Hermione proceeded to tell Tarquin all about Ron. Well, give as much detail that was possible without revealing that he was a Weasley or risking anything to do with possibly changing the future.

"So we were pretty much engaged before I had to come to London." Hermione finished confidently. It honestly felt good to talk about Ron again.

"Engaged? Wow! I had no idea!" Tarquin replied.

"Well… almost. I _know _he will propose as soon as I come home." Hermione said surely, whilst eating the last of her teabread.

* * *

><p>It was about two days after she told Tarquin all about Ron and she was humming absentmindedly as she wrote neatly in the stock ledger. She had set up a makeshift desk in one of the now organised corners of the shop where she kept her ledger. It was much easier than coming to and fro from the office when she found a book she needed to record. Hermione couldn't believe that Valeria had never performed any kind of stock-take on her books. How was she supposed to know what or how many books were in the shop?<p>

She put the ledger down and quickly walked over to the back of the store. She was _sure _she had seen a book on the History of Gringotts out this way. If she could find it, Hermione would be able to add it to several different sections of her ledger, including Gringotts itself, Goblins, Magical Currency as well as the History section, to name just a few.

She had gotten to know the different aisles well enough over her time in the shop to not even bother looking where she was going anymore, as she quickly navigated her way through to the back of the shop.

It felt like the most embarrassing déjà vu when she, yet again, crashed into a familiar male chest, the same arms wrapping around her to keep her steady and that familiar scent that caused her to go immediately rigid in his arms.

"Hermione." He said in amusement. "You really need to start watching where you are going. We can't keep running into one-another like this."

Hermione sighed in annoyance as she looked up into the smirking face of Tom Marvolo Riddle.

"Mr Riddle, I do apologise for my careless manner." Hermione gritted out.

"I already told you to call me Tom and really, why would I not enjoy catching such a _charming _young lady."

Hermione wanted to hex the git. But instead, she calmly stepped out of his arms and stepped well away from him.

"Sorry, _Tom_. I forgot." She replied.

"That's quite alright, Hermione."

"Well, then. If you excuse me…" She said awkwardly, and stepped around him, giving him a ridiculously wide-birth.

She was almost waiting for him to stop her – he had, after all, done it every other time she had tried to escape his clutches. But when he didn't, she was a mixture of mild surprise and immense relief. So she continued onwards to the back of the shop, quickly found the book on Gringotts and happily walked back to her ledger, feeling triumphant about her sorting abilities.

Sitting and continuing to write in her ledger, she didn't completely relax like she had before, knowing that Lord Voldemort could still be possibly lurking in the store. However, she continued to present an air of nonchalance, because sitting there appearing to be concerned about the slightest noise would not look good. Especially because she felt that whilst Tom Riddle's interest in purchasing books was genuine (he didn't become a Master of so many subjects and theories of magic by doing _nothing_), she was worried after listening to Tarquin the other day as well as her own interactions with him.

Yes, she actually wished that she could turn back time (_touch wood_) and change the way she had acted towards the young Dark Lord. _Why oh why_ couldn't she have just held her tongue around him?

'_Insufferable know-it-all'_

And now she had Severus Snape's insult ring in her ears like a big, fat 'told you so'. Hermione unconsciously crossed her arms in defiance; there would be no more 'interest' to be garnered from her! She would be as boring as… well as boring as she wanted. There was nothing interesting to be known about her.

"You look like you've come to some sort of monumental personal understanding…"

She looked up, and sure enough, there was the one person she didn't wish to speak to.

"Ah, hello." Hermione replied, feeling good on the inside because she didn't include some sort of witty retort to his comment.

"What are you doing?" He asked, nodding towards her book.

"I've created a stock-take ledger. Basically improving record keeping." _There, try to find something interesting about __**that**__, Voldemort! Hah!_

"Why is the book so thin?" He asked curiously, looking at it.

"What do you mean?" _Oh, you've got to be kidding me! _Hermione thought in annoyance_._ Must he really need to know _everything_? Merlin! She had tried her best, tried her best to not say anything that would cause questioning and where did it get her? Straight back to square one!

"Well, if you are keeping records for this entire shop, I would expect quite a substantially sized book."

"Oh. Well, all you need is to be satisfactorily proficient at charms..."

"How do you use it?" He asked, stepping closer towards the make-shift desk and looking down on the book.

"Well all you need to do is write the name or subject matter of the book you are searching for on this page here," Hermione pointed to the first page of the book, "And then all of the linked books will appear on this page." She explained.

"How?" He asked.

Hermione looked up at him, "Well, say I was interested in looking up Transfiguration, for example, I would just write Transfiguration _here _and then all the books relating to it would appear _here_." And so they did, Hermione noted proudly as the all of the possible suggestions Hermione had catalogued so far appeared on the page.

"So as you can see from this list, that this is every book relating to Transfiguration that I have been able to catalogue so far." Hermione continued explaining and picked up the book that she had suggested to Dumbledore for good measure.

"I'm impressed." He said quietly as he watched the suggestions appearing on the page before them. "How did you manage to do this?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "It's a bit messy to go through the entire process, but let's just say that I spent a lot of time mucking around with memory and summoning charms."

She didn't want to go into too much detail – even though it did feel good to boast to someone like _that_. Besides, she had initially gotten inspiration from the Marauders Map and worked it out from there. She had used similar magic at the Ministry – having everything organised certainly helped with her projects immensely.

Tom smirked. "That could be used in many different ways – not just for keeping records."

Hermione gave a small knowing smile and simply shrugged her shoulders.

"Your parents must have been very intelligent." He then commented.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Well, you _were _home schooled. And Tarquin mentioned that your father taught you." He explained.

"Oh." Hermione said. "Yes, well, I spent most of my childhood reading one thing or another. I guess it's only natural." Well, at least that part was the truth…

"Where are your parents now?" He asked curiously.

Hermione looked away. She didn't want to have this conversation with him of all people! How dare he even ask; she thought as she felt the beginnings of tears begin to well in her eyes. _No! _She wouldn't cry! Not in front of him. Not in front of any of them.

"They're gone." She answered without any further explanation.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise…" He began to say, but was interrupted as Hermione abruptly stood up from her seat. She didn't want to listen to his insincere words that meant nothing.

She briefly looked towards the ceiling, trying to control the surge of anger inside of her, as she quickly moved away from the small desk.

"It's fine." Hermione replied tightly. "Really. It is." She said as she gave him a tight, false smile. "I have something to take care of out the back. Sorry, but I'm sure if you need help Tarquin can assist."

She didn't even give him a chance to answer as she quickly walked off. She was so embarrassed all of a sudden, because she had reacted like that in front of _him_. It had all happened so suddenly, there was no way she could have seen it coming, or stopped it for that matter.

After coping so well in front of everyone, she - of course - had to briefly lose it in front of Tom Riddle. The one person who held no compassion for others, who would use other's emotions for his own personal gain…

She couldn't stand the humiliation right now. She couldn't stand the fact that she was here… That original, optimistic determination to get home – that unquestionable belief – which she had carried since the beginning was slipping. Without it, Hermione realised that everything was about to become much more difficult.

* * *

><p><strong>Poor Hermione :( Don't you hate those moments where you feel fine but then all it takes is one person to say something and suddenly you're not? I was thinking of her reaction in Deathly Hallows 1 where she obliviated her parents... holding it together so well - yet not. Let's not forget the emotional toll of what she is going through and who she is dealing with!<strong>

**As for general interaction with Tom... no matter what she says, she can't win! **

**Poor Tarquin! He has no idea what he is doing! He is such an innocent boy... perhaps I should start paying him some sort of commission as a part of my matchmaking business? hehe.**

**As for Tom and his Knights... I decided in the end to ONLY go with who Dumbledore mentioned in Half Blood Prince: Nott, Dolohov, Rosier and Mulciber. Where is the obligatory Malfoy and Black you ask? Don't worry, those purebloods will be making an appearance soon ;) **

**As for Tom's legilimency/occlumency skills, I know many fan fics show that he has impeccable skills by his seventh year. Well I decided to make it so he is still developing/mastering them. I believe he would have a natural ability to do it, therefore, he would be already very accomplished at reading people but mastering magic like that is very different to just performing it. The question is, how do you think Hermione's occlumency skills will be?**

**Anyway! enough of my rambling! **

**Thank you for reading and reviews are very much appreciated :)**

**Cheers**

**Shan**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **FYI, I'm posting this same message in **both** of my stories to say that I'm not impressed:

Recently, I received a review from a reader saying that they loved my writing so much that they 'borrowed' a scene of mine and used it for their own story. Said reviewer hoped that I didn't "mind", considering that, apparently, my scene was better than what they had initially thought of. Well *newsflash* I DO mind. When you take someone else's work and reproduce it as your own, its plagiarism and stealing.

Now I realise that this is FanFiction and I don't own Harry Potter, but my story ideas are still my own. I work my arse off when I write my chapters. I am so offended and disappointed to think that someone would just have the audacity to re-use it in their own (supposed) work, whilst I put all of that effort in. Just because you then leave a nice, little (anonymous) review doesn't make it okay. I do hope your readers enjoyed reading MY scene. FFS, get your own ideas.

**Thank you for reviewing (and those awesome quest joiners, heh): **

**Hanane_EL_Mokkadem, KThxBai, Nerys, Dream_a_Dream123, indiat, Laurie_Jupiter, HereToRead84, StValentineSt, TazziJadeBlack, Kou_Shunu, sun_emperor, Anonymous, Shamonti, AvoidedIsland, MisheardLyrics, CheshireCat23, AwesomePersonlolxx, e_m_o_m_i_n_t, Donna_Noir23, Hamelia_Le_Claire, abcdreamer, quest joiner, Serpent_In_Red, Spirit_of_the_Rain, gleeislove, Megii_of_Mysteri_OusStranger, Izusu_chan, eliseyweesey, LadyNorth76, nibblehead, ChamberlinofMusic, Lady_Whitlock and Cecilia_Wren.**

_******Disclaimer****:** ****This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

><p><em>XXX<em>

_When it all comes back to you / the words you say / make me wonder if it's true / the story goes for another day – Miami Horror (Holiday)_

_XXX_

"Where's Hermione?"

Tom turned and saw Tarquin standing behind him looking confused. Well, this was just _swell_. Couldn't he just get a moments peace to think about what had just happened? Before he could answer, Tarquin started talking again - much to Tom's annoyance.

"I could have sworn she had been working here." Tarquin mused to himself before looking at Tom again. Suddenly Tom noted that a rather uncharacteristic calculative look appeared in the Hufflepuff's eyes. "Oh no… you didn't… _ask her out _did you?"

Tom couldn't stop his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "I'm sorry?"

"Ask her out, you know… on a date?"

Tom simply stared at him. Surely, he had to be joking? Did that berk still think that he was actually interested in Hermione _in that way_?

"Because if you did," Tarquin continued, not even noticing Tom's silence, "I should have told you mate, she's already got someone." He said, nodding vigorously – as if to add weight to his 'news'.

Well, it was actually news to Tom… _not _that he cared about Hermione Edward's love life. Merlin, just because everyone from Hufflepuff was constantly mooning about love and friendship… _It was so annoying!_

"Oh." Was all that Tom was able to say.

"I'm so sorry! I should have told you as soon as possible. You see, I only just found out about the bloke myself."

"Tarquin, I was certainly not asking her out." Tom answered in a tightly controlled voice. Oh how he wished he could curse the idiot!

"You didn't?" Tarquin seemed slightly confused. "Oh! Well, what a relief!" He seemed to visibly relax on behalf of Tom. Tom wanted to roll his eyes. "Where did she go off to then?"

"I'm not really sure. We were talking and she just 'up' and left." Tom put on his best 'confused' expression. Tom wondered if this could become a way to find out more information. "We were talking about her parents… she seemed to get rather upset."

A knowing look passed across Tarquin's face and Tom felt the anticipation build in his stomach. He must know something!

"She said that they were… _gone_." Tom said, allowing his voice to waver at all the right moments.

"They are." Tarquin nodded solemnly. "She didn't say what happened to them, just that they were gone."

"I feel terrible now." Tom replied, looking sadly at Tarquin and almost laughed as the idiot bought Tom's rather brilliant façade.

"Oh you shouldn't feel bad, you weren't to know." Tarquin replied sympathetically. "Hermione is just one secret after another. I only just found out about her parents and boyfriend… and we've been working together for a good few weeks now." He explained.

Tom mused on this. So she wasn't even telling everything to Tarquin? That berk was exactly the kind of _friend _that a girl would tell all of her secrets to. And yet she wouldn't discuss her family _or _the project she was working on. _What was Hermione Edwards hiding?_

"It's surprising then, that she would be travelling alone." Tom commented.

Tarquin nodded emphatically. "Now that you say it, it does seem strange… I wonder why her boyfriend didn't come with her?" Tarquin seemed to think. "She just seems to get so upset sometimes…"

Tom realised that Tarquin appeared to be currently vocalising his thoughts. He was certainly not interested in standing around talking about the feelings of Hermione Edwards, despite the fact that this new found information seemed to provide some foundation to his current understanding of her.

"Well, perhaps you should go check on her." Tom suggested. He wasn't interested in talking to Tarquin anymore. He felt that he had gotten as much information as possible out of this conversation.

"Good idea." He replied and Tom nodded, ready to leave. "See you later Tom." Tarquin replied genially and quickly walked off to find Hermione.

* * *

><p>Hermione was currently sitting on her couch trying to stop the steady flow of tears that just wouldn't go away. The constant ache of missing her friends and family had finally reared its ugly head. And it happened in front of worst possible person. Mixing with her sadness, of course, was the embarrassment of being caught out. Why couldn't she - for once in her life - control her emotions?<p>

Why couldn't she be nonchalant or even cool, calm and collected? Sure, she wasn't as hot-headed as Ron and Harry – a watery smile tugged at her mouth at the thought of those two and their 'moods' – but surely she could have done better than that!

There was a knock at her door which caused her to jump up. _Who could that be?_ She wondered. She didn't really want to speak to anyone right now…

"_Hermione? _Are you there?"

Hermione recognised Tarquin's voice straight away and cringed. She didn't want him to see her so upset. Then he would ask questions and Hermione really had no idea as to how she would answer them.

"I know you're in there… open up!"

_Can't he just take a hint? _Hermione thought grumpily and sighed wearily as she went and opened her door.

Tarquin stood there staring at her. "Are you okay?" His face was full of concern.

"Yeah, I'll be okay." Hermione replied in a slightly wobbly voice. When she looked at his expectant expression she gestured for him to enter.

Hermione went back into her small living room with Tarquin following closely behind. Turning and facing him, she gestured him to sit on the small couch.

"Do you want a cup of tea or something?" She asked as he flopped down.

"No, I'm fine." He replied. "Sit down Hermione." He said as he patted the seat next to him.

Hermione sighed and plopped down next to him. "I'm sorry I ran off. Please don't tell your Aunt… I promise I won't make a habit of this."

"That's not why I'm here. I wanted to see if you're okay?"

Hermione looked up at him. "Yeah, I will be. It's just… um… hard sometimes."

"I'm sorry you have to go through this." He said quietly. "Although, to be honest, I still feel as though I don't even know half of it."

Hermione chuckled. "You don't know the half of it… no-one does."

"Hermione, you can talk to me. I consider us as friends. I hope you do too." He said sincerely.

Hermione felt terrible. Tarquin was a genuinely good person. He was the kind of person that she would be friends with – no matter what time period. He was a true Hufflepuff to the core… but she couldn't tell him what was really on her mind. Whilst his intentions were good, it was just too risky to tell him anything.

"Of course I consider you a friend, Tarquin." Hermione said emphatically. "It's just; I really can't talk about it."

Tarquin looked at Hermione and then sighed. "I figured as much. But when you do need to talk, well, you can talk to me."

Hermione smiled. "That means so much. Thank you."

Tarquin grinned. "Why doesn't your boyfriend come and visit? Maybe you would feel better if he was around?"

"It's kind of complicated… Ron is very, ah, tied down with his work." Hermione replied awkwardly.

Tarquin nodded. "I felt so bad before… I accused Tom of asking you out."

"You what?"

"Well, you just vanished and he was just standing there alone… so I just put two and two together and _obviously _got five." He chuckled. "Riddle seemed quite concerned about you though."

"Really?" Hermione's tone was more sarcastic than surprised, but Tarquin either didn't notice or just decided not to comment.

"Well I broke the news about your boyfriend anyway." Tarquin continued. "Poor bloke."

_Yes, poor Riddle indeed. Poor orphaned, innocent Riddle. _Hermione thought sarcastically, wanting to roll her eyes. She highly doubted that Lord Voldemort was _even _interested in any of that sort of thing. The whole thing was ridiculous and embarrassing. If she ever made it back home she wondered if it would make a good story at the dinner party… _Oh-ho-ho, then there was that time when I was thrown back in time and my friend thought that Lord Voldemort – yes, that's right You-Know-Who – was interested in dating me! _Hermione almost snorted at the thought of seeing Harry and Ron's faces at _that _particular news…

"Say, do you realise that it's your birthday soon?" Tarquin suddenly changed topic and Hermione was brought out of what she thought were rather humorous musings.

"And?" She said, raising her eyebrows.

"We haven't even planned a party!" He cried as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Hermione suddenly regretted revealing her birthday when they first met. What sort of male remembered birthdays anyway? In Hermione's book, the only man who never needed reminding was her Dad… as for the others, well, thank goodness for Ginny and Mrs Weasley… as she was sure that without those two women, Ron and Harry would both be completely clueless!

"Tarquin, I do not need a party." Hermione replied quickly. "I barely even know enough people here for a party… and it's still a couple of weeks away anyway."

"Excuses, _excuses!_" Tarquine replied theatrically. "You cannot _not _celebrate your birthday! I won't hear of it."

Hermione rolled her eyes and laughed. "Fine, if you must. A dinner with you and Valeria would be nice."

Tarquin scoffed. "You just leave the planning up to _me_."

* * *

><p>Strangely enough, Hermione felt much better after talking to Tarquin. Even though he wasn't able to really understand what she was going through, he had a comforting presence which had calmed Hermione down immensely after her little 'episode' that afternoon.<p>

Therefore, she felt a lot more positive as she sat down and eyed Dumbledore's notes. Whilst he had admitted the rudimentary nature of the notes, from putting them in some kind of order, Hermione believe that he was actually writing a book on the topic. However, she couldn't remember ever hearing of such a book… perhaps he never finished it? There had to be _something _in there that would give her an understanding of her current situation.

So, she settled back on her small sofa, sipped on a milky cup of tea and began reading…

_First, to understand the magic behind the Veil, we must understand the history of the Veil. The Veil has existed in the Ministry since the beginning of the Ministry … One does not know whether the Veil was somehow magically transported to the Ministry or whether the Ministry was built around the magic of the Chambers of Love and Death … Some myths surrounding the Veil state that the Ministry was actually built specifically around the Veil to control capital punishment as well as keep it well hidden from the Muggle world…_

_Research outside of the Ministry is limited on the Veil. The limitations are extensive, due to the fact that research surrounding the Veil is controlled by Unspeakables. Information is not available under the usual Wizards Right to Information Act, making it almost impossible for those outside the Ministry to conduct research. _

Hermione continued to read through Dumbledore's background and introduction, noting that he went into depth about his collaborative advisory position with the Ministry, as well as the lack of transparency to the public on information relating to the Veil. Hermione sighed, not really finding anything of use so far, yet continued reading anyway.

_One of the key findings in my limited research is the fact that the Ministry is too arrogant to acknowledge muggle symbology pertaining to veils in general. The veil has a rich history in muggle culture ... Across many different religions the veil is used … Some muggles also believe that the veil in black represents the symbol of secret sin and the natural darkness of human nature … A black veil is worn at funerals, often by the woman, and is seen as a mark of respect to the deceased … Therefore, is there a link between this Muggle symbology and the fact that the Veil in the Ministry has a black sheen?_

Hermione read through Dumbledore's research and noted how detailed he had been in discussing muggle culture, including the use of veils in weddings, funerals and various religions such as Islam and Catholicism.

But how did it link to his statement that the Veil linked back to those who created the language of Ancient Runes?

_Ancient Runes remain as one of the only languages that link the magical and muggle world ... Muggles still acknowledge the mystic 'powers' and history of ancient runes, including those who specialised in the language ... This is a surprising finding, considering the fact that the Muggle world practically denies the existence of anything remotely magical that cannot be answered scientifically … The term 'Rune' originates from the Norsa term of 'Runa' which means 'secret or mystery' …_

Hermione rubbed her temple. There was so much to take in, even in the introduction alone. She placed the notes down, picked up her quill and began taking her own notes. She had a feeling that tonight was going to be a long night…

* * *

><p>"We'll only be five minutes…<em>please<em>?" Tarquin begged as he dragged Hermione into the Quidditch shop.

"Okay," Hermione sighed. "I suppose that's alright since I dragged you through Flourish and Blotts before."

"_Thank you_. Isn't it enough that we already workin a bookstore? And here I am, because I am such a nice person, going into _more _bookstores for my delightful friend!" Tarquin replied in an exasperated manner.

"Alright, you've made your point – loud and clear… We can spend as much time as you need in here and I promise that I won't complain." Hermione rolled her eyes in a joking manner.

They stepped into the store and Hermione's eyes immediately – out of habit more than anything – went straight to the bright orange poster representing the Chudley Cannons. Of course, every team had a poster displayed up in the store. Each poster was obviously set in order of the current Quidditch league ladder, considering that the Chudley Cannons were right at the very back of the poster line-up. Hermione sighed with sympathy… _poor Ron! _

By the time Hermione had turned back around, Tarquin was already off at the counter looking at the latest broom repair kits. Hermione chuckled and decided to simply wander around until he was finished.

The store was quite busy for a week day, and Hermione had to squeeze through several aisles full of people before she eventually felt comfortable. Unsurprisingly, the area for Chudley Cannons merchandise was the least crowded area in the store and Hermione gravitated towards it gratefully.

She eyed the merchandise affectionately, thinking of the many weekends where she would simply sit and enjoy a book whilst Ron would listen to the Wizarding Wireless Network keeping his fingers crossed and hoping for the best for the Cannons. The _best_, of course, was not to be completely annihilated by their opposing side. This normally led to Hermione baking Ron something sweet to cheer him up because even hoping for the best was not really good enough.

"I hope such a pretty lady isn't an actual fan of the Cannons!"

Hermione spun around quickly and came found that she was face-to-face with a young man with sharp cheekbones, shoulder length dark brown hair and sharp grey eyes.

"Excuse me?" She asked with a hint of amusement.

The young man chuckled. "You're an actual fan of the Cannons? You _are _brave... Or don't know that much about Quidditch."

"No, I'm not a fan of the Cannons… my boyfriend is." She smiled.

"Well, no disrespect to your boyfriend… but who follows the Cannons?" He asked incredulously.

Hermione, feeling defensive for Ron, sniffed. "Well, plenty of people still follow the Cannons – even without a fan club."

"What are you _talking _about? There's a fan club… Although I think it only has about five members." He snickered.

Hermione blushed and realised that perhaps in the forties, the Chudley Cannons _did _still have a fan club. She supposed that it wasn't really the worst thing she could say… he would probably just pass it off as a girlfriend who didn't care too much for her boyfriend's favourite sports team… something which was quite common in any language.

"Well, I guess I got mixed up." Hermione replied lamely.

"So what are you doing? Buying a present for your boyfriend?" He asked in a friendly tone.

"No, I'm actually waiting for a friend. This was the least busy area of the shop." Hermione explained.

"With good reason, too." Her new companion snorted. "Puddlemere is, by far, the best team."

Hermione shrugged indifferently. "I'm sure that's debateable. To be honest, I don't really support a team."

"Well… that's just criminal! You _have _to at least support a team!" He exclaimed. "Who are you waiting for anyway?"

Just then, Hermione saw Tarquin walking with his new broom kit safely tucked under his arm. She waved at him to get his attention and he smiled in recognition and began walking towards them.

"Ah, you're friends with Skeeter?" the young man standing beside her observed.

"Yes, that's who I was waiting for." She replied as Tarquin finally reached them.

A look of pleasant recognition crossed Tarquin's face as he looked at the young man standing next to Hermione. "Hello Antonin." He greeted happily. "Hermione, I see you've met another one of my old classmates, Antonin Dolohov."

Hermione froze and felt a shiver run down her spine as realisation and dread dawned on her. She slowly turned to the young man beside her and appraised him. She supposed that he looked much different to his older, twisted self… he actually looked and seemed like any other healthy, young man.

She wanted to throw up. What kind of cruel joke was being played on her? She recalled with sickening clarity the amount of time she had to spend healing from that curse that he had hurled at her in the Department of Mysteries all those years ago – which technically, now, was still years ahead. She then angrily remembered the still-noticeable scar on her chest because of it. Subconsciously her hand ran down the front of her shirt and she exhaled a long-held breath. She realised that she had suddenly become the centre of attention with Tarquin looking at her in confusion and Dolohov eyeing her expectantly.

"So you're Hermione Edwards?" Dolohov broke the awkward silence and Hermione felt herself automatically turn to him.

She took a deep breath. "Yes, that's me." She replied and took his outstretched hand, shaking it.

"It's nice to meet you." He said amiably. His polite tone was almost too much to bear.

But surely if she could converse with Tom Riddle she could talk to Antonin Dolohov without falling apart…

"Hermione, are you okay?" Tarquin asked her in concern. She noticed the curious look that Dolohov gave her.

She realised that she had to swallow her emotions. She had to get over reacting strangely towards every new person she met!

"Yes, I'm fine. Sorry Mr Dolohov, your surname just sounds very familiar. I was trying to place it." She tried to reply in the friendliest tone that was possible.

"Oh, well my family hails from Russia originally. My Grandfather was the first to ever cross breed dragons in captivity. Not to mention that my Father keeps one of the largest and most diverse private libraries in Britain." He replied proudly.

Hermione allowed a fake look of recognition to cross her face. "Oh! Actually I think I read something when I was doing some research on Dragons."

Dolohov nodded. "Yes, well, there you go." He replied.

Hermione gave him a polite smile and turned to Tarquin. "So you found what you were looking for?" She nodded towards the kit he had bought.

"Sure did. Was it as painful as you thought it would be?" he replied in amusement.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You know, I _do _actually know about Quidditch. I practically grew up with Quidditch nuts."

"Even though she was standing beside the Cannons gear." Dolohov added.

Hermione threw him a glare, which went unnoticed because Tarquin and Dolohov had now started discussing the benefits of the repair kit Tarquin had purchased. Hermione half listened to their conversation; currently distracted by the fact that she had just had a civil conversation with a Death Eater… _What was wrong with these people? What was wrong with her? _

"We still need to organise that Quidditch match, Tarquin." Dolohov said, capturing Hermione's interest again.

"Well if you reckon you can get some players together – I can talk to some of my mates and we could do it this weekend." Tarquin replied eagerly.

"Alright Skeeter, I'll owl you and let you know. We can play at my place, there's a huge field near us." Dolohov offered.

"Great. Well I guess I'll see you later."

"Miss Edwards, perhaps you will come along? We will be looking for a fair referee." Dolohov asked.

"Er… I don't know." Hermione replied slowly.

"Oh what a great idea! You have to Hermione! You need to get out. It's not healthy spending all that time reading those musty, old books." Tarquin interjected, enthusiasm shining in his eyes.

Dolohov nodded and finally retreated. "Yes, agreed. Well I'll be in touch. It was nice to meet you Miss Edwards. I hope we see you at the game." He nodded at Hermione and she thought she noted something in his eyes… though it happened so quickly she had no opportunity to decipher it.

_Merlins pants! _Hermione thought in annoyance. How on earth did she manage to get involved in this?

* * *

><p>Tom was currently sorting through some newly acquired goods when Dolohov stepped through the door. <em>What was he doing here? <em>Tom thought in annoyance. He had specifically told his Knights to stay away from his work place. Dolohov better have a good reason for being here, otherwise Tom would have to remind him why it was a bad idea to disobey him.

"Dolohov, fancy seeing you here." Tom said in a rather cutting voice, hinting at his displeasure.

"My Lord, I know you had previously said-"

"Yes, so you better have a good reason for turning up here without me allowing it." Tom hissed quietly.

"I thought you would be interested to know that I met Miss Hermione Edwards this afternoon." Dolohov replied.

Tom raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"Her behaviour was rather odd, to say the least."

Tom almost rolled his eyes. He already knew she was odd… he didn't need confirmation from Dolohov!

"And?" Tom asked in a clipped tone.

"Well Skeeter was with her. We've organised a Quidditch match this weekend." He said in excitement.

"If you don't get to the point very soon…" Tom said warningly.

"Well Miss Edwards will probably be there too… I hinted that we would need a fair referee."

Tom was suddenly interested. "And?"

"Well of course Skeeter couldn't contain his excitement." Dolohov rolled his eyes at the memory. "And, therefore, I don't think Miss Edwards will be able to get out of it."

"And how does this involve me? I can't stand – nor do I choose to play - that stupid game."

"Well, my Lord, you could be over enjoying my hospitality… My parents, after all, just built a new swimming lagoon. It would only seem natural to have my friends over to enjoy it." He replied with a smug smirk on his face.

Tom's eyebrows rose in amusement. His followers did sometimes surprise him with their plots and schemes to get what Tom wanted.

"I know you want to know her secrets; I knew she wouldn't be able to say no with the Hufflepuff around. Plus it will be just you and her watching us play."

"Very good Antonin, I am very pleased with you." Tom replied.

"I live to serve you… to reach our ultimate goal." Dolohov replied reverently, eyes shining at his Master's approval.

* * *

><p>It was the day Hermione was dreading. Somehow she had been roped into acting as a referee for Tarquin's supposedly 'fun' Quidditch match.<p>

"Are you sure you need an actual referee?" Hermione asked as she pulled her robe on. Tarquin had come to meet her at the shop before they were to apparate to Dolohov's house.

"Of course we do… I may get along with Dolohov, but he's still a sneaky Slytherin and no doubt, the team he has picked are all ex-Slytherin team members too."

"But it's just for fun… _surely _you can all just play for fun!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Are you crazy Hermione? Think about it… the last time we all played together we were all still at Hogwarts… this is somewhat sentimental for all of us, y'know. It's going to be a right competition."

"Well I hope I won't have to be breaking up fights." Hermione sighed.

"Don't worry Hermione," Tarquin said as he wrapped an arm around her, "I'm sure you can handle a few rowdy blokes!"

Before Hermione could say another word on the matter, she felt that familiar tug of apparition. Tarquin was already taking them to Dolohov's! Gripping on to him, she unconsciously gasped as she felt herself being pulled through a too-small tube. Hermione had almost forgotten what it felt like to be the second person in a side-long apparition.

But before she could think about it much more, they were again immersed in bright daylight as they softly landed in a grassy field. Catching herself, Hermione gave a half-hearted glare at Tarquin.

"You could have warned me." She accused whilst quirking an eyebrow.

"You were already looking for a way to get out coming – I wasn't taking any chances!" He replied cheekily as they both stood up and brushed themselves off.

"Where are we exactly?" Hermione asked curiously whilst looking at their surroundings. They were standing about 10 metres from a large iron gate. About one kilometre away from the gate Hermione could see a medium sized Manor. Well, by 'medium', she meant it was smaller than the Malfoy Manor… but in her opinion it was still disgustingly excessive.

"We're just a few miles outside of Ilminster actually." Tarquin replied and began walking towards the gate. "C'mon Hermione, he told me that he's taken the wards down for an hour so we can all get in alright."

Hermione again admired the rolling grassy hills surrounding the property as well as the cloudless sunny sky. It really was a beautiful day and she could tell by Tarquin's fidgety mannerisms that he couldn't wait to get up in the sky.

They both walked through the gate together and hadn't even been in the property for a minute before a little house Elf suddenly appeared in front of them with a loud '_pop_'.

Hermione jumped back in surprise whilst Tarquin snickered beside her. "Have you never seen a house Elf before Hermione?" He asked jokingly.

Hermione clicked her tongue in annoyance. "It just surprised me, that's all."

Suddenly the house Elf began ringing its little hands. "Snowy is sorry to make Miss scared. Snowy does not mean to sneak up on Miss!"

Hermione's eyes widened at the Elf in sympathy. "Oh no! That's okay. That's fine Snowy – was it? You did nothing wrong."

Snowy looked up at Hermione with big, round eyes. "Miss is too kind to Snowy!" It then squeaked and gestured its hands. "Follow Snowy to Quidditch match!"

Hermione smiled at the Elf and then rather swiftly nudged Tarquin who was trying – and miserably failing – to hold his sniggers in.

With a loud pop they were transported – yet again – with the help of Snowy to a massive looking field which already looked like it had a group gathered in what could be described as the centre of the field.

Hermione looked around in wonder. The pitch felt like a professional match field… all that was missing was the grandstands. It even had the proper Quidditch goal posts. _Good Godric! Harry and Ron would be in heaven! _Hermione thought fondly as she remembered the much less sophisticated matches that were always held in the backyard at the Burrow.

"Swell, huh?" Tarquin said from beside her.

"It's amazing. I've never seen anything like it at someone's house."

"Come on, let's go meet everyone."

They both began walking towards the group that was still standing in the middle of the pitch. Hermione suddenly felt extremely nervous approaching all of these strangers. She wondered whose ancestors or worse yet, which future Death Eaters she was about to meet. Some of the people turned and watched them approach and Hermione recognised Dolohov as one of them.

"Nice of you both the join us!" He shouted over the pitch.

Tarquin responded by holding up his broom in the air as recognition.

When they finally reached the group in the middle, Hermione grinned nervously as her stomach churned nervously and watched as Tarquin stepped forward eagerly.

"All, this is Hermione, Hermione this is everyone." He gestured towards the group. Hermione flushed under the stares. "Hermione is going to be our referee… It'll stop all you sneaky Slytherins from cheating." He added jokingly, looking towards Dolohov.

"Steady on, Skeeter. This _is _just a friendly match after all." Dolohov smirked. "Anyway, since Miss Edwards is going to referee she needs to meet _my _team."

"Hermione meeting your team will not give you any advantage." Tarquin replied in a cocky manner.

"Never the less, Hermione, I will introduce you." With that, Dolohov gestured towards a group of young men standing behind him. "This is Matthew Nott, Eli Rosier and Leo Mulciber. There are a couple more to come as well."

Hermione tried to hide her shock; here she was, standing in front of Voldemort's original Death Eaters. In many ways she had expected it, but at the same time it still made her heart skip a beat. All that was missing was Voldemort himself. Well, with the most annoying wizard in history missing, Hermione had to at least be thankful for the small mercies in life.

She didn't know what to expect from the wizards in front of her… Looking at Matthew Nott was like seeing a double of Theodore Nott, ex-classmate, turned irritating Unspeakable colleague at the Ministry and the other boys looked, well, the same as Dolohov: _young and happy_. A small part of her – _very _small, mind you – had the urge to suddenly show them how their lives would turn out in the future… She then also wondered what they would think if they found out she was muggleborn… _Surely the polite pureblood act would drop then? _

Hermione gave them all a rather awkward smile and a small wave; she almost jumped when she felt Tarquin tug on her robes.

"Okay, since you've now met _them_, let's meet the team that will actually win."

She heard some rather offended scoffs coming from Dolohov's team, but Tarquin had already pulled her away and she now found herself standing in front of group of young men. She was pretty sure that if Lavender or Parvati knew about this, there would be much complaining about this being wasted on _"boring Hermione Granger"_.

"Hermione, I want you to meet Charlie Diggory, Harold Craig, Joshua Arataur, Markus Bones and Samuel Smith."

_Smith? _Hermione really hoped that the tall, blonde man standing in front of her was of no relation to the berk who sent her back here. She'd have a good mind to cast some sort of long-term contraceptive charm on him if he was, in fact, the Grandfather of that fool who just happened to have recently _ruined her life! _

Hermione suddenly toyed with the idea that if she did somehow stop his, er, _reproductive organs _from working she might be instantly transported back to her own time. It was almost too tempting to resist… but alas, who knew what would happen if she committed such a crime. A crime against time travel, not against that stupid Smith family, of course.

Instead of scowling though, Hermione gave them all a polite smile and turned back to Tarquin. "You don't really have enough players for a fair game." She said and motioned towards each group.

"Yeah we'll probably be one down on each side… Oi Antonin, when are your other players showing up? I want to play already!"

Dolohov shrugged his shoulders. "Not sure… How about we decide on colours and such now?"

Tarquin grinned. "Well it is quite obvious mate, green for you snakes and yellow for us-"

"Badgers." Rosier snickered.

"Come now, Eli, you make it sound like it's a bad thing." Charlie Diggory stated with a hearty laugh, though Hermione did notice his eyes squint in a slight mocking manner.

"That's because-" Rosier began, but was hastily elbowed in the ribs and given a 'look' by Dolohov. Hermione frowned at the threatening look given to Rosier by Dolohov, and the equally quick retreat that the young man made.

Suddenly they were all interrupted by a faint yell across the field. All turned and squinted and Hermione noted two figures flying towards them at a rather fast and wild pace. One of the flyers whooped loudly and overtook the other, who in response leant his body down further to gain more momentum on his broom, but he wasn't quick enough for the other who simply flitted about – seemingly less worried about the race than the others.

As they got closer, Hermione was able to finally distinguish minor characteristics between the two of them. The one who flitted about in such a wild manner had what looked like shoulder-length raven black hair, which flew about the place like his riding style, whilst the other more competitive looking one had hair which was more an auburn colour – it looked longer, but tied back in a rather sleek manner.

"About bloody time." Dolohov said as they finally pulled up in front of the group.

"Keep calm mate!" the black haired man replied. "Your owl was rather short notice, and surprising, to say the least."

"Think of it as a little Hogwarts reunion then." Dolohov replied uncomfortably.

Both wizards alighted from their brooms and walked over to the group. Hermione took an unconscious step towards Tarquin, again, feeling nervous about being the only one who didn't really know anyone.

"Good to see you both again," Tarquin said, "It feels like it's been yonks!"

The two wizards turned towards Tarquin and offered polite smiles. Their gazes curiously settled on Hermione. Tarquin grinned and in the process pushed Hermione forward slightly – much to her immediate discomfort.

"Hermione'll be acting as our referee today – you know, making sure none of you Slytherin's play up."

"Us? Play up?" The one with the auburn hair said, whilst cocking a mocking brow at Tarquin.

"Hufflepuffs don't cheat." Markus Bones replied.

Hermione agreed with the boy. They didn't cheat. She remembered back at her time in Hogwarts when Gryffindor played Hufflepuff and because of Dementors, Harry lost his chance at going for the snitch. Cedric had offered to replay the match, feeling it wasn't fair. _Even Quidditch-mad Oliver Wood had declined the kind offer!_

"I've seen Smith pull a few interesting – to say the least – moves out there before." The raven haired boy replied and nodded to Smith, who seemed to get all puffy about being named.

"That's neither here nor there." Samuel Smith replied haughtily.

Hermione had to swallow a grimace – he reminded her of uncannily Zacharias, it was scary!

"Regardless, we're forgetting out manners, aren't we Alex?" The raven haired boy then said, completely dismissive of Smith.

"Most certainly," He turned to Hermione and offered a charming smile. "My name is Alexander Lestrange and this is Alphard Black. Pleased to make your acquaintance… _Hermione _was it?"

Hermione's eyes bulged slightly… _Lestrange and Black? _Well, she wasn't expecting that! She quickly attempted to swallow her surprise as they were now looking at her with anticipation. "Er, yes. Hermione. Hermione Edwards." She replied, hating how awkward she sounded all of a sudden.

A grin broke out on Alphard's mouth and he stepped forward and shook Hermione's hand, which was followed by Alexander. Hermione couldn't help but stare at Alphard Black. He was the one who, after all, helped Sirius out when he ran away from his family. He was the only Black who Sirius said he actually liked. _But is he a member of Riddle's gang too?_ He was, after all, playing Quidditch with them… but then again, Dolohov's greeting towards the two of them was still quite formal – not the sort of greeting you would give a friend… _but Slytherins were rather odd, weren't they?_

"Lovely to meet you." Alexander said, pulling Hermione out of her internal debate on the behaviour of Slytherins. Before she had a chance to make a polite response, Alphard quickly cut in.

"I assume you know Quidditch then? If you're willing to ensure it's a fair game." Alphard asked.

"Hermione grew up with Quidditch, didn't she?" Tarquin answered for her.

"Yeah, I've seen too many games to count." She added and gave a small smile.

"You don't play?" Alphard asked, looking sceptical.

"Er, I had a bad experience with brooms in my- when I was a child." She quickly corrected. "I like watching it though." She grinned.

"Rightio, enough yakking; let's play. Hermione, you should be able to get a good view of us over near that tree. Now, I know both teams are about one person down each, but I reckon we'll manage." Tarquin began ordering, and pointed to a random tree off the side of the field.

Hermione smiled at Tarquin's sudden burst of bossiness and quickly began walking over to tree. She was incredibly grateful for the idea of shade, it was quite a sunny day and Hermione could already feel her nose and cheeks begin to burn from even such a short time in the sun.

Settling herself down on a large picnic blanket she had brought along, she looked towards the field and noted that everyone had changed their robes to either green or a golden yellow. Running a hand through her hair, she prepared her official 'scoring' card and got ready to enjoy watching a game of Quidditch.

* * *

><p>An hour later Hermione sat there, head in hands, bored out of her mind. They <em>still <em>hadn't caught the snitch. The score was currently 90-80, with the Slytherins in the lead.

Hermione eyed her beaded bag, desperately wanting to pull one of her books out and start reading, but she couldn't do that, as she eyed Tarquin up in the air, looking as though he was having the time of his life. _Well, at least __**they**__ were having fun_, she thought in annoyance. Getting her head out of musty books indeed! She would be much happier reading one of her books, despite the fact that she was enjoying the sunny weather.

Well maybe they wouldn't notice if she had a book and then just checked the game every couple of seconds… surely that would be okay, wouldn't it? She guiltily eyed the bag, before snatching it up and opening it quickly. _What to read, what to read? _She wondered as she now held the bag. A brief grin crossed her face when she realised that she had packed a book relating to _Wizarding Myths, Legends and Fairy Tales_. She was hoping that maybe she could find _something _in there that might be able to give her more clues about her own predicament.

She sighed in relief as she opened the book and began reading. Checking the sky every couple of minutes, Hermione felt smug at her successful multi-tasking… she was even able to tell when the Hufflepuffs scored and were now tied with Slytherin with the big _'whoop'_ Tarquin made.

But of course, her multi-tasking didn't last long and before she knew it, Hermione was so deeply engrossed in her book that she didn't even notice the sudden shadow that loomed over her.

"Aren't you supposed to be watching the game?"

Hermione yelped, jumping out of her spot, immediately feeling guilty. Looking up, she locked eyes with none other than Tom Riddle, who was staring at her expectantly.

"What are you doing here?" She blurted out, and then cringed slightly, realising how that would sound to someone like him.

He shrugged his shoulders and gracefully plopped down next to her. "Antonin's parents just installed a new heated lagoon – we were all swimming before the game. His father also wanted me to value some of their magical antiques."

"Oh." Was all Hermione could answer with. She eyed him and realised that he was dressed quite casually compared to the usual suit and robes that she saw him wearing. He was wearing a casual white oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and loose fitting, cotton, tan-coloured pants. She noted how his hair, despite it being in its usual neat style, was slightly damp. Hermione wondered, in frustration, if it just automatically styled itself nicely – or perhaps the vain git had some sort of permanent beautification charm on it.

"Oh?" He smirked back at her. "As I was saying, shouldn't you be watching the game… you know, ensure they don't end up attacking one-another?"

Hermione huffed, and closed her book, noting how his eyes travelled quickly over the cover of the book before landing back on her. "I've been watching this game for an hour and a half. Nothing has happened, and I can tell when someone's scored due to the cheers, anyway."

"Still, it's not very responsible, Hermione. Why, those boys are relying on you." He chided, though she could tell he was being sarcastic by the glint in his eyes.

Hermione looked away from him and rolled her eyes. "Why aren't you up there playing anyway?" She changed the topic.

He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "Quidditch has never bothered me one way or the other. I never joined the school team because I was already busy with my school and prefect duties."

_Not to mention being evil_. Hermione thought darkly. Though she had to admit that she was still surprised he admitted to not being a huge fan of the game. Suddenly a mental picture of Voldemort supporting the International Quidditch League entered her mind and she had to bite down on the side of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.

"Do you play?" He then asked, obviously not noticing her amusement.

"No. But I grew up with a couple of Quidditch aficionados, so it was always around me one way or the other."

The conversation died off as Hermione stared back up at the sky and Tom didn't really say anything more. She felt incredibly awkward with him sitting so close to her. It felt like everything was suddenly set off-kilter.

"Listen," He began to say, "About the other day-"

Hermione knew what he was talking about. She had run away almost in tears after the subject of her parents had come up. _With him_. She really did not want to talk about that at all.

"It's fine." She quickly interrupted him. "Forget it even happened." And Merlin, she hoped that he would forget! _But _this was Tom Riddle she was talking about, so instead she just hoped he wouldn't bring it up again.

"What are you reading?" He asked instead of pushing the other issue. "Don't tell me that you're reading a book of fairy tales instead of keeping up with your Quidditch duties… I'm sure your friend Tarquin would be most devastated if he saw that."

Hermione frowned at Tom, who truly seemed to be enjoying poking fun at her. "If you're so concerned about their game then by all means, please become the referee." She replied in an annoyed tone.

"Tsk, tsk, Hermione. Shirking your duties like that."

She turned and scowled at him. "I am _not _shirking my duties." She replied hotly, and with that, she pointedly sat the book down next to her. "No wonder they made you Head Boy." She muttered.

"You remember finer details quite easily don't you?" He replied.

Hermione froze and then let a large breath out in frustration. So what if she remembered such a detail about him? He was just making mountains out of molehills in her opinion. "Well, I've been told that I have quite the memory." She replied haughtily. "Now if you excuse me, then yes, I really should be watching this game." _And not talking to you!_

Tom didn't say anything more but from the corner of her eye Hermione noted that he was smirking at her. _Stupid… well, maybe not stupid, but sneaky git!_

The time and silence stretched out between them and Hermione managed to record another goal made by Slytherin. It felt strange to be sitting here with Lord Voldemort who sitting so quietly next to her. Sometimes she could feel him observing her and at other times his attention seemed elsewhere. She was trying very hard _not _to pay attention to him; to the point where it almost seemed rude. But Hermione did not care too much about that. The less time she spent talking to him the better, in her opinion.

After almost 15 minutes of ignoring him she finally turned her attention towards him and almost shrieked when she realised that he was reading _her_ book! How on earth had he managed to pull that without her noticing? _Bloody hell! _She had been so intent on ignoring him that he had been able to get a hold of it without her even noticing.

"Excuse me, but what in Merlins name do you think you are doing?" She almost shrieked.

He looked up innocently from the book. "Oh, just reading… I didn't think that you'd mind, considering how focused you were on the match." His smile was mocking and it made her want to punch him in the face.

"Give it back!" She ordered. "You can't just take someone's book without asking!" Her voice was becoming shriller by the minute.

"I was just curious; I didn't realise that you weren't into sharing. But are you honestly into these… _fairy tales_?"

"Not that it matters, but almost _all _wizarding fairy tales have some basis of truth to them." She replied reproachfully. "Now give me my book back."

"Well, actually, I was quite enjoying this story… I want to see if the great Wizard is really able to save the Damsel in distress from the clutches of the evil Dragon. So if you don't mind…" And with that he continued to read, but Hermione could tell from the smirk on his lips that he was enjoying this far too much for her liking.

"Tom Riddle! Give me my book back now!" She shrieked and went to snatch it back from him, but he was far too quick and suddenly held it up above their heads – just out of Hermione's reach.

"Only if you ask nicely." He replied, waving the book in the air.

"I don't see why I have to ask nicely when you took it from me without asking in the first place." She huffed and attempted to make a grab for it. "Now if you don't give me my book back…"

"You'll do what exactly?" He scoffed.

"You don't want to know what I'm capable of." She muttered darkly, still trying to grab it and failing miserably.

Tom outright guffawed at her. "I'm sure I should be absolutely terrified." He mocked.

"You should be terrified!" Hermione replied, momentarily forgetting the seriousness in actually threatening Lord Voldemort. Oh well, he wasn't taking her seriously anyway. He obviously saw this as one, big, _funny_, joke. Well Hermione did not think that it was funny at all!

"Okay, okay, I'll give it back if you answer me one question." He bargained.

"What's the question?" She asked quickly.

"Hmm, smart that you don't automatically agree to that term. Very smart indeed…"

"Riddle." She growled. "What is it you want to know?"

"Is the book for your project?" He asked.

Hermione's eyebrows rose. "_That's _what you want to know?"

"Well, is it?" He pressed, face suddenly completely blank.

Hermione sighed. Well, what could it hurt? It's not like he seemed to take fairy tales seriously at all… Even Dumbledore had said that. "Yes it is. Now can I have it back?"

He suddenly smirked and handed her back the book. "Certainly, here you go."

She gave him a strange look and decided to actually put it back in her beaded bag instead – keeping the strap of the bag wrapped around her wrist for good measure. _Now there's a clever idea, Hermione! _Even her mind was mocking her now, she thought moodily.

"What else can you store in that bag?" Tom suddenly asked her, before she could think much more about his questioning over the fairy tale book.

"Lots of things." She replied.

"What sort of things?" Tom pressed.

"Hmm… books, clothes, money…"

"I've seen you put a few things in there… it seems to hold a lot." He observed.

"You remember details quite easily don't you?" She smirked as she mimicked his earlier comment that had been directed towards her. "But yes, I'd say that's the idea with a girl's hand bag – fancy that!" And she grinned.

Tom's eyes glinted at her slight teasing. "What sort of magic did you use on it, you know, to get it like that?"

"Undetectable extension charm." She replied in an off-handed manner.

"That's quite clever." He replied. "With that and your ledger system at the shop… well one must wonder why you are, indeed, working in a shop."

Hermione couldn't help but feel some pride at his small compliment. He may turn into one of the darkest wizards of all time, but Hermione knew that Voldemort was pretty much a Master of many different magical theories. Therefore, she couldn't deny that it was strangely nice for someone so intelligent to recognise her skills.

"Well Mr Riddle," She replied very primly, "considering you were Head Boy and you work in a shop, one could ask the same of you." She cocked an eyebrow at him and could tell that her question annoyed him greatly.

"I'm saving to travel. I intend to travel for some time, so it would be futile to become entrenched in somewhere like the Ministry." He replied in an even tone.

"Well then, I suppose we are even then. Considering my project and the fact I intend to spend a very short time _here, _why would I bother getting a job at the Ministry?"

Tom didn't say anything to that and the conversation died off. They were quiet and Hermione turned her attention back to the game. _Great Godric! One can only hope that it will be over soon! _She thought in annoyance. After several minutes of silence she turned to Riddle who appeared to be immersed in his own book. She curiously leaned over and had a look at it, causing him to look up.

"What are you reading?" She asked.

"Oh so you are now allowed to ask what I'm reading, but I'm not allowed to know what you are reading about?" He smirked.

"Well, that's completely different!" She replied, rather swottily, "You _took _my book and then teased me. I'm being polite, at least."

"Well in that case – since you have defended yourself so well." He replied and held the book up.

Hermione's eyes widened. "That's… why that's Bridget Wenlock's complete unabridged works on Arithmancy!" She eyed the book in awe. "How did you get your hands on that?"

"Dolohov's father has quite the book collection. For free appraisal of his antiques, he leant me this book as payment."

"That's amazing." Hermione breathed, forgetting all rhyme and reason. "That book, well, it hasn't been seen for years and years – perhaps even centuries."

"Sitting protected by wards in one family's library will do that." Tom replied smugly.

"Do you mind if I-"

"You want to look at it?" He asked, and a calculating smirk suddenly appeared on his face.

"Well, only if it's… I mean-"

Tom tapped his long index finger on his chin and seemed to be thinking. "Hmm, I'm not sure. Mr Dolohov leant it to _me_ and only _me_. If something were to happen to it in my care. Well I would hate to think of the consequences…"

"Oh! I would never hurt a book!" Hermione cried, eyeing the book longingly. In fact she didn't take her eyes off it once.

"I'm sure you wouldn't." Tom replied, and smirked. "Tell you what, how about we make some kind of deal?"

Hermione's eyes snapped from the book to his and she blinked, as if she suddenly realised who she was asking for a favour. Was doing a deal with Lord Voldemort such a bad thing? _Well, that's a stupid question! _She thought snarkily. _Of course it was a bad idea!_ But another part of her also thought that it would depend on what he was asking. It couldn't hurt to ask, could it?

"What sort of deal?" She asked cautiously.

"Well… How about-"

But before Tom could even make an offer a sudden explosion came from the Quidditch pitch and Hermione, distracted by the noise, quickly turned her attention away.

She screamed as she saw someone in a golden yellow cape falling rapidly from his broom. Without even thinking, Hermione quickly got up and ran towards the pitch, watching in horror as the boy fell faster and faster. _Why wasn't anyone doing anything? _She thought, frantically as she pulled her wand.

"_Aresto Momentum!_" She cried and watched as the charm hit its intended target and the boy immediately slowed to a safe pace.

Hermione continued running towards the centre of the pitch, not allowing her concentration to waver as the boy dropped peacefully to the ground of the pitch. As she ran up to him, she realised with surprise it was Samuel Smith.

"Are you okay?" She asked as she knelt down beside him.

"I'm fine!" He bit back, "I was just about to put my own wand out, you know."

Hermione looked at him in confusion. Why was he so angry towards her? "What is your problem?" She asked in annoyance as she noticed all the other players flying down, some already landing around Hermione and Smith.

"I do not need some _girl_ to help me!" He bit out and quickly pushed himself up, brushing grass off his robe.

Hermione swallowed her anger. "Well it looked like you did need some help, the way you were falling." She bit back, angry at his rudeness.

Before he could answer Alexander Lestrange landed and ran up to Smith. "You bloody cheat!" He yelled at him, drawing his wand. "How dare you try to confund me, you bloody arsehole!"

"Is this true Samuel?" asked Tarquin as he looked between the two of them.

"Of course it's true! He's always tried to use it! Even back in school… you were all just too trusting to see it!" Alexander bit out.

"And you say we cheat… bloody hell." Alphard replied, with some humour in his voice, despite the current predicament.

"I did not confund you!" Samuel shot back haughtily.

"No you didn't, because I knew what you were up to, you sneaky little prick!" Alexander yelled and before Hermione even knew what was going on, Alexander had flicked his wand non-verbally and a red hex came hurtling towards Samuel. The only problem was that instead of blocking it, Samuel jumped out of the way which meant it was heading straight towards Hermione.

Hermione blinked and went to raise her wand, but before she could do that, she felt someone grab her arm and pull her out of the way – just in the nick of time, too. She looked up and found Tom Riddle, hand tightly grasped around her arm, staring straight back at her. Her eyes widened in surprise…

_Did Voldemort just help __**her **__out?  
><em>

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><p><strong>Whew! that was a looooong chapter! Though I'm sure none of you mind right? hehe.<strong>

**Okay, so how do you think you would cope meeting all these Knights (future Death Eaters)? Poor Hermione. Because they act pretty normal as well. To be honest, I've never liked reading Death Eaters as 2-D "baddies"... I mean, as much as I hated Lucius Malfoy, for example, there are more layers to him than just being a "baddie". Yes, they are people too! ****I think I can safely say that Dolohov is earning some commission as a matchmaker as well, haha. **

**Poor Hermione (again, lol) because she can't escape Riddle! Haha, I decided to do a Quidditch game because I needed a break from the shop, it was a chance to introduce new characters and seemed fun and social. As for Riddle, I'm sure we will find out next chapter his thoughts ;P Oh and I was thinking of adding a scene of Hermione spotting Riddle in his swimmers at the "new heated lagoon", that was, until I looked up mens swimwear in the 1940s *shudders*... sorry, but it would be an insult to Tom Riddle to put him in a pair of those! It would completely kill his mojo!**

**Oh and this chapter we met someone who _will_ try and vie for Hermione's affections as well... (because what's a good fanfic without *that* lol?) Who do you think it will be? You may be pleasantly surprised... ;)**

**Thanks for reading and I welcome reviews! xox**

**Cheers**

**Shan**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello all! Welcome to Ch7.**

**Thank you for reading and reviewing: **

**AwesomePersonlolxx, CheshireCat23, TazziJadeBlack, LeahHeartsSirius, HereToRead84, m0nt, Ankoku_Dezaia, Anahera46, AvoidedIsland, Dream_a_Dream123, BubblesWOO, MisheardLyrics, 23, Nerys, Megii_of_Mysteri_OusStranger, Laurie_Jupiter, Dreamsb223, Amethyst_Pheonix, Taylor, FiOnAFiO, Zombie_Reine, KatieMarrie, LadyNorth76, rising_of_the_darkness, nikif, StValentinesSt, Serpent_In_Red, ShimmeringWater, Brin_Hearts_Harry, ChamberlinofMusic, xoRetributionox, Kou_Shun'u, e_m_o_m_i_n_t, Psychofee, cracked pepper, Schnuersenkel and Spirit-of-the-Rain.**

**Disclaimer:**This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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><p><em>XXX<em>

_When you look with your eyes / everything seems nice / but if you look twice / you can see it's all lies – Lily Allen (LDN)_

_XXX  
><em>

Tom paced the spare guestroom at Dolohov Manor; he was not happy.

"Explain to me _again_, why those fools, Lestrange and Black were even here?" He spat at a nervous looking Dolohov whilst Nott, Mulciber and Rosier watched on with blank expressions on their faces.

"My Lord?" Dolohov looked at him in confusion.

"Do not make me spell it out for you."

"I-I, ah, well… Avery is still in France on his apprenticeship and, well, Crouch had to accompany his father to Prague…"

"And?" Tom spat.

"Well I couldn't really think of anyone else. They are really good players; Smith is a dirty player – always has been… I just don't think Skeeter realised."

"It's true, my Lord, Smith is a dirty player." Nott jumped in quickly.

Tom rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Whilst this Quidditch… _chit-chat_… is very fascinating," He replied sarcastically, "it still does not explain why the game was cut short. Lestrange is, of course, infamous for cracking at what could be described as the most _inopportune _moments."

Well, Tom thought in annoyance, the most _inopportune _moment for him. The way that Hermione Edward's face had lit up when she saw that book, well, he knew she was desperate to read it. In fact it was the first time since he had met her that he had seen her drop all her defences in front of him… in fact, in front of everyone he had observed her with. Perhaps the only one he had seen her give a similar look to was Dumbledore. _Thank Salazar that old coot is back at school_, Tom thought with relief. The absence of Dumbledore certainly made things easier for him.

He had seen a small flicker of an opportunity and it had been ruined by those Quidditch idiots. Now that she had time to think about it, she would put those defence walls back up again and he would be back at square one. The best way to deal with someone like Hermione Edwards was to not allow her time to think; to force her to make snap decisions. Because personalities like that hated being forced to think without already knowing – or thinking that they knew – all of the answers. She needed all the facts and then all of the decisions she made were logical. He was suddenly curious to see how she duelled. Tom had always thought that the way someone duelled was an excellent judge of their character in general.

"My Lord, if I may, I am sorry." Dolohov's voice cut through his thoughts, causing him to quickly turn and stare at the boy.

"Oh, I'm sure you're sorry… but sorry doesn't bring back the progress that I was making, does it?"

"No, no it doesn't, my Lord." Dolohov mumbled, looking down at his feet.

"Never-the-less, despite all of your failures," and he cast a sweeping sneer to the four young men, causing them to squirm, "I would like to show you some new magic."

He noted with satisfaction how their expressions quickly changed from worry to curiosity without a moment's notice. Tom smirked; people were just too easy to manipulate.

"I've discovered a relatively old curse… do any of you remember anything about the Trier Witch Trials?"

"The witch trials in Germany?" Nott piped up.

"They mainly killed weird muggles – stupid fools." Mulciber commented.

"Correct." Tom confirmed. "It was considered one of the largest European mass executions in _peace _time. Whilst they mainly killed muggles, some magical blood was taken as well."

"Filthy muggles." Dolohov spat.

"Yes, well, the wizards of that time certainly agreed with you. Which is why they created a curse that would literally cause the recipients nightmares to seem real – pain included." Tom paused and looked at the group standing in front of him. "It was cast when they fell asleep, and could only be broken by the castor. Of course those caught murdering witches and wizards… well the curse would never be lifted." Tom studied the group. There were small murmurs of shock and obvious interest in the curse.

"So they would have to live with their nightmares?" Rosier asked curiously.

"Sleep itself would eventually become their nightmare. It was enough to send them insane, of course… many even ended up killing themselves, but some even embraced their nightmares." Tom pulled his wand out and lightly ran his fingers over it. "I want to teach you, but I need a volunteer…"

Tom looked across at all four boys and noticed all of them suddenly look down or away. _Except Dolohov_, Tom noticed with a smirk as he stepped forward.

"I'll volunteer, my Lord." Dolohov said.

_Good boy_, Tom thought with pleasure. Antonin knew that he was going to be chosen today anyway. Tom almost respected the fact that Antonin was willing to accept his punishment.

"Very good Antonin. Of course, you know I will make it a very quick procedure and then the curse will be lifted. It is simply to demonstrate to the others." Tom explained in a mock kind voice.

Dolohov simply nodded, swallowed heavily and moved to stand in front of Tom.

"First," Tom began, "We need to make him fall asleep… _Somnus Iam_." Tom cast with a swish of his wand and Dolohov yawned tiredly before collapsing heavily to the ground, seeming to have fallen asleep.

"_Nocens somnium fio proprius somnus." _Tom said in a slow and clear voice, allowing his wand to slash diagonally across Dolohov's body.

Tom watched as Dolohov lay on the floor, not even moving at first. Tom was beginning to become impatient until he saw Dolohov's lips begin to twitch and his eyelids flutter. Suddenly his legs jolted outwards, causing the other Knights to take an unconscious step back. Tom stayed where he was, closely observing him.

Tom decided that he wasn't really interested in actually seeing whatever Dolohov's worst nightmare was - he just wanted to view the reaction. A whimper escaped Dolohov's lips and Tom knew it was in full effect.

After another few moments strangled cry wound through the room as Dolohov rolled straight onto his back and began thrashing about, his body unconsciously trying to wake him up. Tears began leaking from his eyelids and a scream – raw and desperate – rang through the room, causing all of the Knights to flinch uncomfortably.

"_Finite." _Tom whispered, allowing his wand to sweep over the prone body in front of him.

The room was completely still, Dolohov still lying on the ground, eyes closed, whilst the rest of the group stood around him watching and waiting to see what would happen next.

After a few moments, Dolohov's eyes cracked open, and he looked towards the ceiling – not seeming to remember where he was or that anyone else was in the room. His gaze looked glassy and unfocused; his breathing heavy as he slowly brought a semi-shaking hand to his head and ran it through his hair.

None of the Knights dared to say anything, whilst Tom watched Dolohov so closely. Finally Dolohov seemed to realise that he wasn't alone and turned his head and looked at the collected group who stood before him.

"Antonin." Tom said.

Dolohov simply stared back as all his senses returned. "My Lord." He finally replied, in what sounded like a dry and cracked voice.

Tom turned to the other Knights, "What are you waiting for? Help him up." He ordered.

Rosier quickly stepped forward first and held out his hand, quickly pulling Antonin up, who winced when he was back on two feet again.

Dolohov looked blearily around the room, before looking at the rest of the boys in the room. "It-it… was like nothing I've ever…" He trailed off, not able to complete his sentence and looked down.

Tom stepped forward and put his hand on Dolohov's shoulder, causing him to look up at Tom. "Excellent work, Antonin."

* * *

><p>Hermione was currently walking down Diagon Alley. It was her day off and she had desperately needed to get out of the shop for a few hours. Tarquin was <em>still <em>moping about what had now become a very infamous Quidditch game. He said that it was mainly because Smith cheated, but Hermione knew that he was also sore because the game had ended after what was now referred to as _'the confrontation'_ and the ex-Slytherins had won.

Quite frankly, Hermione was tired of listening to it. She thought that this time period would at least not subject her to mindless Quidditch talk; it was bad enough listening to Harry, Ron and Ginny sometimes. Therefore, she had decided that some fresh air was in order, and she now found herself wandering aimlessly through Diagon Alley, with no real destination in mind.

As she walked past Flourish and Blotts she couldn't help but notice the ridiculous number of people inside. It was the type of shop that was always busy, but it looked as though there was some sort of event on. As she walked up to the shop she noted the large poster on the window:

"_Today only: Meet celebrated Seer Cassandra Vablatsky! _

_The writer of 'Unfogging the Future' will __**only **__be at Flourish and Blotts to answer your questions! _

Hermione scoffed as she remembered having to read that awful textbook during her rather short stint in Divination. _Celebrated 'Seer' indeed!_ Hermione scoffed. She wondered if Cassandra Vablatsky was as loony as Professor Trelawney. _That's almost a requirement for that type of magic_; she thought and mentally snickered at her own joke.

Still, she _was _rather curious to see the woman in the flesh… Vablatsky was, after all, part of history and Hermione did wonder what sort of musings the woman would spout to the naïve all-believing masses. In fact, it had been a while since she had had a decent laugh at anything. So she pushed her shoulders back and confidently entered the shop, trying to find space amongst the many people.

Just as she was about to mutter about crowds and their complete lack of civility, she looked up and almost groaned out loud. _Why oh why, did this keep happening? This is starting to get really old! _She thought in frustration, as Tom Riddle walked up to her.

"Hello Hermione, here for the talk?" He asked conversationally as he stepped up next to her.

"I was walking past, saw the poster and thought I'd have a look." She replied evenly. _Of course! _She thought in annoyance, _of course Lord Voldemort was at this ridiculous thing! _Hermione mentally snickered; he probably wanted to have his tea leaves read and be told just how _wonderful _he was. She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes; she could certainly give him some future predictions, and she didn't need a bloody crystal ball!

"Do you have the day off?" He asked.

"Yes." She replied. Actually, now that she thought of it, she hadn't actually run into Riddle since that Quidditch match; when he had saved her from that curse. She hadn't had the chance to thank him yet – or, if she were realistic, she had been avoiding even thinking about it. The idea of thanking him was utterly abhorrent to her… but a small part of her silently wondered what would have happened to her if she had been hit by that curse.

_Why did he do that anyway? _She knew he had his precious 'good orphan' façade that he would keep up for a few years still, but he didn't have to do that. He could have let the curse hit her and just pretend that it all happened before a response was possible. Hermione seriously wondered if she was currently wishing that the curse had have actually hit her, rather than Tom Riddle saving her… and her feeling as though she therefore owed him something.

"Hermione?"

She looked up, surprised, to find Riddle smirking at her. He had caught her off guard, lost in her thoughts… _again._ "Listen Tom," She began, "I, er, wanted to say thanks…"

Tom merely cocked an inquisitive eyebrow, causing Hermione to garble her words even more.

"That is, er, _thanks _for um, saving me the other day. Yes." She finished and let out a breath she didn't realise she was holding in. _That really __**hurt**__! _

"That's quite alright Hermione." He replied smoothly, and Hermione detected a slight hint of what sounded like amusement in his voice. "I guess you owe me one, then." He then added in a teasing manner.

Hermione's eyes bulged slightly. "Oh." She replied. "Well, yes, I suppose you have a point there." She had no idea how to answer that! She wasn't sure if he was just making fun of her or being serious… _Could Tom Riddle ever __**not **__be serious? _She wondered if he ever had fun doing _anything_… well, anything that didn't include killing or hurting people, that is.

Deciding to move away from him and sit down, as she couldn't leave now, she spotted a spare seat almost right next to where she was standing. Hermione noted with glee that it was next to an empty space, so Riddle couldn't sit next to her. Smiling smugly, she sat down and made herself comfortable. Unfortunately Tom still hadn't done anything and was just standing there, looking around. Seats were being taken up quite quickly. Annoyance crept up on her when she noted his smug smirk as he came to stand in the empty spot next to her and easily conjured up a chair. Hermione held in the urge to groan.

"I guess I'm fortunate there's an empty space here." He commented casually, as he sat down next to her.

_More like __**unfortunately**_! Hermione thought darkly, but merely smiled and nodded weakly – feeling uncomfortable at their sudden close proximity. _Did he have to conjure his chair so close? _She unconsciously crossed her legs and folded her arms – her body language a clear reflection as to how she felt about the whole situation.

Before Hermione could internally complain anymore about the proximity of one Tom Marvolo Riddle, a giant pool of mist suddenly swept through the room. _Oh, here we go… _Hermione thought, rolling her eyes. As the mist evaporated, a woman now stood at the front with a placid smile on her face.

"Welcome." She said in a light voice. "Thank you for joining me today."

Hermione sighed in relief that her voice wasn't as misty and annoying as what Professor Trelawney's had been.

"I could spend today discussing things which, no doubt, many of you would have already read and dictate the course of my time here… but I predict that you all would rather see me in action." With that, she smiled at her small pun and a light smattering of laughter travelled through the room. Hermione merely rolled her eyes.

"So, I can't promise that all of you will get answers to your questions. I work from intuition only – you cannot force the inner eye to do its magic after all!"

Turning and looking through the crowd, Hermione noted that the woman looked as though she were deep in concentration as she studied many of the faces in the room. Suddenly her attention zeroed in on a young girl sitting a few rows ahead of Hermione and Tom.

"Ah, Miss Daisy Yates?" Vablatsky asked, smiling at the girl, whose eyes bulged in shock.

"H-how do you know my name?" The girl - now known as Daisy – asked in complete awe.

"Oh, well I went to school with your Mother… you look exactly like her." Vablatsky responded with an impish grin on her face.

Hermione rolled her eyes and scoffed quietly, causing Tom to look at her and raise an inquisitive eyebrow. Hermione ignored him and put her attention back to what Vablatsky was telling the girl.

"What you've been hoping for – or more – _who _you've been hoping for will come into your life soon." She stated mysteriously.

"Can you tell me who and when?" Daisy asked; the jittery excitement evident in her voice.

"I keep seeing a dark haired man… Though you will know when you meet him. You have a very open mind to the clairvoyant vibrations." She smiled at the girl.

"Will he become my husband? Is he my soul mate?"

"_What a load of sexist nonsense." _Hermione muttered under her breath. _Urgh, _Hermione grimaced as she watched the girl – who had obviously forgotten the rather large crowd in here – get fanatical at the idea of meeting her future husband. _How embarrassing!_

"I just… I thought I may have been too old to find a suitable husband." The girl replied eagerly.

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head as Vablatsky quickly stood up and walked smoothly over to the girl.

"Give me your palm." She ordered and the girl quickly held her palm out.

"Oh yes, I see…" She began as she inspected the hand. "… It will be a happy union, as you tend to give all of yourself to love – no matter the cost."

"Soon?" The girl asked, looking absolutely delighted.

Hermione sighed. _How ambiguous! _She thought with annoyance… _Anyone could predict that!_

"Yes, soon. Keep your eyes open…" Vablatsky replied mysteriously and she drifted back to her own table. Hermione watched with distaste as the girl sat down happily with a flushed expression on her face.

"You don't agree, Hermione?" Tom whispered to Hermione, causing her to jump, his breath tickling her ear due to their close proximity.

Hermione turned and looked at him haughtily, unconsciously drawing back and creating some new distance between them. "You can't tell me that you think that her ambiguous 'prediction' actually holds any water?" She whispered back.

"They say that you need to read between the lines to truly understand Divination." Tom murmured back.

"What rubbish!" Hermione whispered harshly. "I can guarantee that all that will happen is that foolish girl has been given a bit of hope and she'll be eyeing off every bachelor who comes in close proximity to her… of course she has increased her chances of meeting a suitable man – simply because she'll probably be looking at _every single _bloke in the general proximity." She shot back, her voice not as quiet as before.

"But wouldn't that be part of it anyway? Making her aware of her surroundings or the possibilities?" Tom questioned quietly.

"No," Hermione scoffed, "It merely makes her believe something that she could easily do on her own. In fact," and a smirk appeared on Hermione's face, "you better be careful… she might see you and think you are perfect husband material."

Tom chuckled lowly and then leaned across to Hermione again, effectively removing the space that she had created between them, "I highly doubt that _Miss Edwards_." He mocked, causing her to scoff quietly in return.

"Oh but wouldn't it be _romantic_… Something you could tell the grandchildren! Imagine meeting at the divination talk where she was told that she'd meet her future husband…" and then Hermione paused for effect before mimicking Vablatsky perfectly, "_soon_." She snickered into her hand.

Tom was about to reply when a random person sitting in front of them turned around and _'shushed' _them as Vablatsky found her next victim.

"Ooh, we must be ruining the 'clairvoyant vibrations'." Hermione snickered quietly.

Tom turned to look at her again, his lips twitched slightly, but before he could respond, the same person turned around and glared darkly at Hermione. Hermione felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment at being singled out. She just couldn't help herself when it came to making snarky comments about this field of magic.

So the talk went on. Hermione was starting to wish that she never came to this ridiculous presentation. She couldn't get over the multitude of mundane and narcissistic questions people asked when they were chosen. Daisy Yates' stupidity was only the tip of the iceberg in Hermione's opinion… Of course; Vablatsky was completely vague and ambiguous in her answers: hiding behind banal symbolism and information you could easily glean from someone's simple body language.

She chanced a quick glance at Riddle and almost laughed out loud at how absorbed and interested he looked in something trivial Vablatsky was explaining in regards to making prophecies. She found it hard to process that a wizard as intelligent as Voldemort would place such high importance on one of the _woolliest _branches of magic. _No wonder he lost! Yes Riddle, and here's another prediction… please allow Lucius Malfoy to handle any prophecies in the future_. She had to physically hold the snicker in that was threatening to break out.

Suddenly Vablatsky's eyes fell on Hermione and she smiled lightly at her, causing Hermione to look back at her suspiciously.

"What a shame it is, my dear, that you do not believe the noble art of Divination." She said, causing Hermione's mouth to open in shock.

"I-I'm sorry?" Hermione responded with, still surprised that she was talking to her.

"One would think Miss_,_" and she paused, with a knowing smile on her face, "that you would be more open to my branch of magic… all things considered."

Hermione's eyes widened. _Did she know? _"I don't know what you're talking about." She replied, suddenly only able to focus on the woman in front of her.

"Do you remember that… _everything happens for a reason_?" She asked and Hermione sucked in a sharp breath at the familiar words. "Fate does control it all-"

"Even at times when you think it's all accidental." Hermione whispered in shock, and looked down, trying to hide her emotions.

"Your mind is anything but mundane, dear." She smiled at Hermione, causing her to look back up in shock.

Vablatsky then turned her attention away from Hermione, moving on to the next person. But Hermione didn't pay attention to the rest of the strange seminar. Her posture rigid and her hands balled into tight fists, she tried to control her breathing - not even aware of the stare she was attracting from a certain young man sitting next to her. What exactly did that just mean? She wondered. She didn't believe in Divination, but how was it possible for her to be singled out like that? Not just that, but for her to quote it word-for-word. It was just… _impossible_.

"Hermione?"

Hermione felt a hand on her shoulder and took a sharp breath before turning and looking at Tom. She hadn't even realised that it had all finished; people were already standing to leave. Noting the curious glint in his dark eyes, she quickly averted her gaze.

"Are you okay?" He asked. She shuddered at the expression on his face; it was nothing but mock concern. Reality and gravity pulled at her as she looked back at him. _He really was a marvellous performer_, she thought, momentarily.

"I'm fine." She responded quietly as she watched Vablatsky pack up and without disappearing in a cloud of mist, politely answered a few questions from some people who had gathered around her and then retreated to what looked like the back of the store, where there was surely a rear entrance.

"What did-" Tom began to ask, but Hermione interrupted him by standing up quickly, shrugging his hand off her shoulder in the process.

"I have to go." She said and ignoring him, and quickly walked off. She _had _to talk to Cassandra Vablatsky.

* * *

><p>Tom clenched his fists, trying to restrain his anger at the pure audacity of the girl. Feeling his nails dig into the palm of his hand, he quickly stood. Intuitively, he stood up with the intent to follow her. Tom wanted to know what Vablatsky had been talking about when she had singled out Hermione…<p>

…_everything happens for a reason…_

…_fate does control it all…_

…_even at times when you think it's all accidental…_

Hermione seemed to know exactly what Vablatsky was talking about, to the point where she had finished Vablatsky's sentence. His intuition was telling him that for some reason, those mere words, justified _why _he wanted to know her secrets. To him, it was as though he was able to finally stop looking for reasons and loop holes as to why she was here, and why she had appeared – _rather inconveniently _– in his life.

He watched her walk out the front door of the shop and onto the street. He quickly followed her, making sure that he stayed hidden within a group of people who were also leaving. He watched as Hermione suddenly turned down the alley next to Flourish and Blotts. Tom furrowed his brows in confusion. _What is she up to?_ Realising that the alley was too small for him to not be noticed by her, he cast a disillusionment charm on himself, and followed her down the alley way as quietly as possible. When she got to the end – which also happened to be the back of Flourish and Blotts – he noted that Cassandra Vablatksy was already standing there.

"Ah, I thought you would come to me." Vablatsky stated to Hermione good naturedly, who now stood before her.

"How did you know?" Tom heard Hermione ask, without any pre-empt.

"I believe you understand the basic theory of the inner eye – despite your disbelief in it?" Vablatsky asked Hermione.

Tom watched as Hermione looked down and took in a sharp breath – much like she had when Vablatsky had singled her out in the shop. "C-can you tell me anything else?" Hermione then asked quietly, with desperation in her voice. "I'm so lost…" She then whispered in such a quiet tone, that Tom almost missed it altogether.

"No… the inner eye doesn't work on command." She replied to Hermione softly. "But you must know that you have all the information… _everything_."

Hermione looked up at the woman, with what Tom noted as disbelief. "If I knew everything why am I still here?" She asked quietly, yet Tom noted the inflection of frustration in her voice.

"I can't answer that for you."

Hermione sighed and gave a small smile. "Right, well, thanks anyway." And with that Tom – despite the disillusionment charm – backed up against the wall as Hermione walked straight past him and back into Diagon Alley. He turned and looked at Vablatsky who was watching Hermione with a small smile. She suddenly turned and looked right in his direction and gave a smile and a wink before stepping back into the shop.

Tom now stood in the alley way alone, wondering how it was possible to have even more questions than what he had before. Something ticked over in his mind – everything was now justified. His pursuit to find out who exactly Hermione Edwards was could now begin.

* * *

><p>Hermione sat at her small desk in the shop, currently sorting through a selection of potions books to add the ledger. She was half distracted, thinking about her run-in with Cassandra Vablatsky the previous day and the fact that Tom Riddle had seen her react terribly to something, <em>yet again<em>. Although she has to admit that she couldn't be her usual annoyed self at Riddle and his ability to turn up unannounced _everywhere,_ she seemed to go because she figured that yesterday was more _her _turning up unannounced to something of his interest. _Of course _he would be at something as ridiculous as that. The worst aspect of the entire ordeal was that if he had no justification to be suspicious of her before, well he had certainly found a reason now!

_Bloody hell! _Hermione wanted to pull her hair out! What did Vablatsky mean by the fact that she already had all the information? If she had all the information, why was she still stuck in this place? Surely she wasn't so stupid to have missed something? Was there some kind of small detail that she had brushed off as being insignificant? She needed to spend more time reading; though it was proving somewhat difficult. Her days sorting in the shop sometimes left her dead tired, and Tarquin or Valeria _always _wanted to do something with her… whether it was to have dinner together or simply sit around having a chat. The problem was, Hermione actually adored spending time with the both of them… the time she spent socialising with them was the only time she felt as though she wasn't missing a part of herself by not being back in the future. Therefore, she rarely found herself refusing their offers.

One small issue that was beginning to become problematic was that Hermione was beginning to find it extremely difficult explaining to Tarquin why Ron couldn't just simply come and visit them in Diagon Alley. Tarquin had declared that he wanted to meet _"this Ron fellow" _and Hermione had no idea what to do. Wizarding transport was quite easy within greater Britain – unlike muggle transport. So her flouncy excuses about Ron being "caught up in work" were beginning to wear thin – even on her, personally. Not to mention Tarquin's slight jibes at Ron not having the time to _"visit such a lovely specimen"_. She had no idea what she was going to do about that at all.

"Excuse me?"

Hermione turned and looked at the young woman who was currently standing awkwardly next to a large pile of books near Hermione's desk. The woman looked to be about Hermione's age, with dark hair and an open expression on her face.

"Are you Hermione Edwards?" She then asked, but before allowing Hermione to speak, simply continued explaining her presence, "I'm here to collect the transfiguration book for Professor Dumbledore. Oh, wait… how rude of me. My name's-"

"Minerva McGonagall?" Hermione guessed a bit awkwardly.

"Oh, you must've gotten the Professor's owl then!" She answered and smiled. "Pleased to meet you." She held her hand out for Hermione to shake.

Hermione shook her hand, hoping that her nerves weren't showing through. She hadn't received an owl from Dumbledore at all, but Hermione was becoming so accustomed to these lovely little _'reunions'_ – as she now referred to them – that she had guessed. She knew that McGonagall had worked at Hogwarts as a protégé of Dumbledore for most of her life… it only seemed like common sense to guess who this young woman was.

Thankfully this was a reunion Hermione could cope with. _Unlike previous meetings_, she thought darkly, as she took in the friendly looking woman in front of her. Hermione could see some traces of the teacher that she would know in the future – the immaculate appearance and sharp eyes, being the main tell-tale signs, but it was an extremely odd experience. After all, this person would be her future head of house, her future transfiguration professor and mentor for Hermione.

Hermione swallowed her nervousness and smiled. "No, I'm sorry, I didn't get the owl at all, I'm afraid."

"How did you know my name then?" She asked with a confused expression on her face.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh… Er, Professor Dumbledore mentioned he had an ex-student working with him… I just put two and two together."

"Oh, alright. Well, the owl would basically tell you that he really wants that Transfiguration book you found – you know the rare one that was produced in the 14th Century?"

Hermione did remember the owl that she had excitedly sent when she had come across the book. She was very pleased to know that Dumbledore now wanted to purchase it.

"I do remember now, I'm glad to hear that he wants to buy it." She replied. The happiness at meeting someone like Professor McGonagall in this time period was immense, considering the other people she had met so far were certain Dark Lords, Death Eaters and ancestors of people she had grown up with. Something akin to relief spread through her system.

"Yes, just as I can't wait to read it." She commented. "But the Professor also wanted to say that sorry that he couldn't make it himself. Unfortunately he's busy undoing a terrible transfiguration prank gone wrong." She smiled ruefully.

Hermione couldn't help but smile at this. "The perils of teaching..." She responded with before standing up. "I know I kept the book somewhere around here… _just in case_." Hermione said as she looked through a pile of transfiguration books. "Ah! Here it is!" She said as she spotted the dusty, old tome almost straight away.

"Excellent. Thank you very much." Minerva replied. "Well, I guess I should be off… It was nice to meet you, Hermione."

"You too, Minerva. Oh, and I found this book before on potions… I'm not sure if Hogwarts has it in stock?" Hermione said, as she held another equally looking dusty, old book up. Hermione, of course, knew that Hogwarts didn't have it – well, the Hogwarts of her time didn't have it anyway. She also knew it was extremely rare, and would be a very valuable collection to the library. Hermione had only seen one other copy available, which was in the Ministry library.

"Oh, really? Let's have a look." Minerva peered at the book. "Well, I must admit that I haven't seen it, but I will double check with the potions professor. Thanks for that." She replied.

"Not a problem." Hermione smiled, hoping that she wasn't staring too much at her old Professor. Despite the age difference, the mannerisms and way of speaking were uncannily reminiscent of the person that she had known.

Minerva smiled and went to walk to the front counter to pay for the book. However before she could disappear completely from sight, she suddenly stopped and swiftly turned around to face Hermione again. "Say," She began, "Would you like to come for lunch with me? I'm just going to head down to the Leaky – nothing special – you're more than welcome."

Hermione stared back at the young woman in surprise. "O-okay, I was about to have lunch anyway. We'll go sort out the book and I can let Tarquin know." She replied brightly.

She stood up quickly, and pulled on her cloak. For once she felt as though she wasn't hiding from the people of her past.

* * *

><p>"So I understand that Professor Dumbledore is helping you with a project…" Minerva commented as they both tucked into their simple lunch.<p>

Hermione paused and wondered what exactly Dumbledore had told Minerva about her. "Yes, he's been very helpful." She replied; ambiguous on purpose.

"So what kind of project is it exactly?" Minerva then prodded. Hermione mentally sighed in relief. She could tell by her innocently curious expression that Dumbledore obviously hadn't told her much at all.

"Oh, it's just purely academic; relating to the subject of Ancient Runes." Hermione offered. "Really, it's quite boring." She grinned.

"I highly doubt that." Minerva replied, matching her grin. "But why is the Professor helping you – if you don't mind me asking?"

Hermione wondered what to tell the girl. Not knowing what Dumbledore had told her, she was immediately on the defensive. Though, looking at Minerva's expression, she didn't look like she was fishing for information – _like certain other people_ – she actually looked genuinely polite and interested.

"Oh, well my parents were always talking about how great Albus Dumbledore was. When I showed up in London, not knowing anyone, he was the first person I thought of. He got me my job and everything." Hermione replied.

"He's a good man." Minerva replied warmly. "Why didn't you go to Hogwarts? We probably would've been in the same year!"

So Hermione told her the story that she had spun for everyone else; that she was home-schooled, her parents were gone and that she was only staying in London to finish her study before returning home to her boyfriend.

Whilst spinning her lies, Hermione realised that she felt incredibly comfortable talking to the Minerva of this time period. She was very quick, friendly and open. Hermione realised that whilst she initially thought that she was pretty much the same as her older self, as they spoke she realised that the young woman in front of her was much less severe and formal than her older self. She could easily admit that _this _Minerva could actually become a close friend, rather than just an admired teacher if they did, in fact, actually grow up in the same time period.

She managed to steer the conversation away from herself – feeling guilty about having to lie - and asked Minerva all sorts of questions about her becoming a professor, as well as her years at Hogwarts. Just as they were getting into an interesting discussion regarding the book Minerva had just purchased, they were interrupted.

"Minerva, Hermione!"

Both girls looked up to see Alphard Black standing at their table. He gave them both a handsome grin. "It's wonderful to see two such beautiful young ladies out." He then added charmingly.

"Do you ever turn the charm off Black?" Minerva replied sarcastically, but Hermione noted the friendly, almost teasing, glint in her eyes.

"I don't believe it's in my nature to do so." He replied and grinned before turning to Hermione. "My friend still feels most terrible for almost cursing you Hermione." He said as he sat down confidently at their table, making himself at home with his butterbeer.

"Oh, really, it's okay. I wasn't cursed in the end - no harm done." She replied, trying to shrug it off.

"What do you mean someone almost cursed her?" Minerva asked before Alphard could say anymore.

So Hermione and Alphard quickly explained how Lestrange had almost cursed Hermione – meaning to curse Smith instead.

"So really, we were quite lucky Riddle was watching over you." Alphard said and Hermione noted the small 'look' he shared with Minerva after that comment.

"Riddle eh? That's a surprise. Well, actually, maybe it isn't…" Minerva seemed to ponder out loud, causing Hermione to give her a confused look. "I have never liked that Smith! How he got into Hufflepuff I'll never know." She exclaimed.

"Well you know he's always badgering on – no pun intended by the way –" And he laughed, causing the girls to both roll their eyes at his terrible joke, "About how he's distantly related to Helga Hufflepuff… _Salazar! _If I have to hear that story even one more time I think I'll magic myself permanently deaf!" He exclaimed dramatically.

The girls laughed at him and they continued to chat about random things, with Hermione finding out quite quickly that Alphard and Minerva had been Head boy and girl together at Hogwarts – one year ahead of Tom Riddle. Hermione enjoyed observing the way they seemed to bounce off one-another as they spoke. Hermione also couldn't help but notice the way Minerva blushed slightly whenever Alphard put his full attention on her. Hermione wondered if Minerva had a small crush on the handsome Black. It was completely understandable if she did. He was absolutely gorgeous with his raven black shoulder length hair and bright grey eyes.

Hermione excused herself to go freshen up in the bathroom. As she tried to get a handle on her rather unmanageable hair in the foggy mirror, she wondered if Sirius would have turned out like his Uncle if so many terrible things hadn't happened to him. When Hermione knew Sirius, he was rarely happy – except when Harry was around. Trying not to let thoughts of Harry get to her, she again forced herself back to what was now her present. A small grin graced her face as she thought of her growing suspicions regarding Minerva and Alphard.

Walking back out to the table she stopped right in her tracks at the sight that greeted her. Alphard was currently whispering in Minerva's ear whilst his hand clutched hers tightly under the table. She watched as he leaned back and smiled at her, brushing a strand of hair out of her face, and she blushed furiously at his intense attention. Deciding to return to the table at a much slower pace, Hermione grinned smugly, feeling vindicated at the sight before her eyes. It wasn't long before she was standing right across from them, but they were so caught up in their own conversation they didn't even note her return.

"Ahem." Hermione said and gave a small cough for good measure. She watched in confusion as their hands quickly tore apart and they moved apart far too quickly.

"Oh, Hermione! You're back." Minerva stated, looking quite flushed.

"Yes I am." Hermione replied, looking at the two of them in confusion.

"Well, I was just telling Minnie, er I mean Minerva… that I must be off…" Alphard suddenly said, quite awkwardly as he quickly stood up from the table.

"Yes, yes you were." Minerva quickly nodded her head in agreement.

Hermione quirked her eyebrows at the two of them… _They had to be joking, right? _She looked at them in confusion as Alphard pulled his jacket on and Minerva fiddled with a loose thread on the sleeve of her blouse.

"Well ladies, it was lovely,"Alphard said, smiling at the two of them, "Perhaps we'll run into one-another again soon."

Both girls murmured their agreement and goodbyes; Minerva seemingly embarrassed at being caught and Hermione confused at their utter denial that they were obviously attracted to one-another in one capacity or another. After Alphard had awkwardly left, Hermione waited for Minerva to finally speak.

"What you saw... well, it wasn't the way you imagine it." She finally said.

Hermione looked back at her. "Oh? How would I imagine it?"

"That we're… you know…_together_."

"Why would you deny it? I mean, you aren't embarrassed are you?" Hermione said, completely disregarding Minerva's denial.

Minerva sighed and rubbed her temples tiredly. "I can see you're not going believe any of the excuses I give you, are you?"

"I don't see why you have to hide it anyway… wait, neither of you are already involved with someone are you?" She asked; it was the only reason she could think as to why they'd be having a relationship in secret.

Minerva sighed, and quickly looked around. Noting that the bar was still practically empty, she turned to Hermione. "Can you keep a secret?"

_Could she keep a secret? _Hermione mentally snorted, she had been keeping so many secrets lately that if anyone could keep a secret it was her. At Hermione's nod, Minerva groaned and then after a long pause finally spoke.

"It's a long story, but I can technically say that Alphard and I _aren't _involved-"

"But just before-" Hermione interrupted but was quickly silenced by Minerva's hand.

"Yes, I know. I'll explain… We aren't together now but we once were. You see, we had never really socialised until we became Heads. When we became Heads we realised how much we had in common… well one thing led to another and we became more than friends." Minerva blushed.

"So why aren't you together anymore?" Hermione asked in confusion.

"There's no future for us." Minerva said quietly.

Hermione shook her head. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm a muggleborn… Alphard is from the House of _Black_." She replied and gave Hermione a knowing look.

Hermione simply stared back at her. She had had no idea that Minerva McGonagall was a muggleborn like herself. It was never something that was mentioned when she was at school… which actually surprised her immensely.

"So now can you understand _why _we can't be together?" She added, in almost a bitter tone.

Hermione swallowed her mounting anger. "So this is his idea?" She asked.

Minerva looked down at her hands. "No. I ended things with him when school finished." She swallowed. "You know, save him the trouble." She laughed bitterly. "He's been trying to see me ever since… We've met a couple of times, but today was a complete shock, to say the least."

"Are you ashamed of you heritage?" Hermione asked in shock. How could someone as strong as her be ashamed of being muggleborn?

"No!" Minerva reassured. "Great Godric, _no!_"

"I don't understand? How can it not be him then?" Hermione asked.

Minerva smiled bitterly. "You have no idea what his family is like, do you? His sister Walburga, for example, is completely insane. There was a small rumour which almost exposed us at the end of our year. I was poisoned Hermione… spent a week in the hospital wing and was lucky that there were no long lasting effects. We couldn't prove it outwardly, but we were sure that it was Walburga who poisoned me. She apparently couldn't believe someone would start a rumour about her brother and a… _'mudblood'_." She explained angrily.

Hermione didn't know what to say. She could completely relate to Minerva. It was a hatred that she hadn't experienced strongly since the war… but she could never forget the hatred she had fought in the war. Draco Malfoy's voice suddenly whispered through her mind; _'filthy mudblood'_. Anger curled in her stomach at the memory.

She looked at Minerva earnestly. "I'm a muggleborn too." She said. "I've experienced hatred because of my blood." She said, much more quietly than her declaration of her heritage.

"We're two of a kind, aren't we?" Minerva looked up at her and gave Hermione a small grin.

"I suppose we are." Hermione smiled back at her. "Why won't he do anything?"

"I've asked him not to. There wouldn't just be a risk of being simply disinherited. His parents have shown their… violent tendencies before. They make Walburga's actions look like a walk in the park, let me tell you. I would rather him be alive."

Hermione nodded. She had been so incredibly lucky to have found Ron. Minerva, on the other hand… well, it was an awful situation to be in.

"Well you never know what will happen." Hermione offered, although it was offered weakly. As far as she knew, her Professor wasn't married in her time and being married to Alphard Black would have, no doubt, been a well-known fact. Her stomach clenched in sadness, as she felt as though there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

Minerva simply gave her a weak smile in return. She didn't need a future prediction from Hermione to know that the two of them being together was pretty much impossible.

* * *

><p>Tom walked up the familiar steps at Knights book shop. He had spent the last couple of days wondering how best succeed in this plan to find out what exactly Hermione Edwards was hiding.<p>

He knew that he couldn't use the same charade on her that fooled so many others. She seemed to be too wary of him… too suspicious of his intentions. Her difficult ways caused him to clench his jaw in annoyance. He had spent the last couple of days thinking how he could approach her, if simply charming her, like most of the other stupid bints, wasn't going to work. Then he remembered how she had been with that book… _Hermione Edwards' weakness was knowledge_.

Tom had always prided himself on his ability to be able to easily find others' weaknesses. Whilst he may not have worked out her secret yet, she was terrible at hiding her emotions… and the prickly demeanour she had around him would almost be amusing if it weren't stopping him from finding out what he wanted to know.

Carefully schooling his features and stepping into the store, he gave Skeeter an amiable smile and the dolt gave him a genuine grin back.

"Hello Tom, after another book?" He asked.

"Hello Tarquin. Not really… is Hermione working?" He asked politely.

"Oh." Tarquin digested Tom's question, and it annoyed Tom how assumptions were obviously running through the idiot's head. "Yes, she's up the back of the shop at her usual space." He replied.

"Thank you." Tom replied and walked off, not interested in watching how the Hufflepuff's eyes lit up at his ridiculous delusions of Tom being interested in Hermione in a romantic sense.

He quickly navigated the over-crowded aisles until he reached Hermione's 'corner'. He stopped just short of allowing himself to be noticed by her and quietly observed her instead. Her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as she looked through a book, quickly scanning it and flipping through the pages at a rather fast pace. He noted how she kept pushing her overly boisterous hair out of her face as she continued trying to concentrate on what she was doing. Waving her wand silently, Tom watched the ledger glow slightly before fading again. She then turned to another chapter and huffed loudly as she again, had to push her hair back as it bounced forward.

Tom silently waved his wand and smirked as he watched her hair pull back from her face, and begin to hold itself up into a simple pony-tail, above her head. At first she didn't notice her hair pulling itself into place, but then she automatically went to push it back and looked up in confusion as she felt the pony-tail in place. Looking around, she stiffened as her eyes met his.

"You looked like you needed some help there." He commented, as he pushed himself off the shelf in a nonchalant manner and walked towards her.

Hermione, still touching her hair, looked at him. She was angry that she hadn't noticed him… _furious in fact, _he thought as watched her brown eyes narrow at him. He almost wanted to grin, but kept his features relatively blank as he looked back at her. She remained silent, and didn't respond to his comment.

She finally swallowed and looked back down at the ledger. "Looking for a book?" She asked plainly. Tom was now annoyed, he was expecting some kind of remark… like how she had been at the Vablatsky seminar. He wondered if what he had seen in the alley had somehow affected her mood.

"No, actually. I wanted to speak with you." He replied.

Her eyebrows rose with interest. "Oh? What do you want to talk about?"

"I was actually wondering if you were still interested in reading the Wenlock book. I've almost finished it myself, that's all."

Hermione stared back at him, blankly. "That's okay," she replied, "It's probably not a good idea to lend it to me – just in case something was to happen." She replied, resolutely.

"Oh, but I thought you said that you would never hurt a book." Tom responded lightly, and watched as her fists clenched at his comment.

"I would never _purposely _hurt a book." She replied, and Tom felt his lips twitch at how she had started to react in annoyance to him, the blank façade slipping away.

"Of course, Hermione." He said. "I am still happy to make a deal with you, if you are willing to hear it."

Hermione looked at him again and he watched as she bit her lip in thought. She seemed to be warring with herself as to wanting to hear the deal or not. Finally she sighed. "What sort of deal do you want to make then?"

Tom smirked. "As long as I am present when you are reading the book, I see no risk in lending it to you." He said.

Hermione simply stared at him. Her mouth opened several times and then closed, nothing coming out. Finally she spoke. "T-that's _it_? You just want to be present when I read it?" she asked, completely forgetting herself in her surprise.

"What? Did you think I'd ask for your first born or something?" He asked with a touch of sarcasm.

She rolled her eyes; he smirked, waiting for whatever witty retort she had. She opened her mouth to speak, but she didn't. Instead, another voice – irritatingly familiar to Tom – interrupted them.

"Miss Edwards?"

Both turned around and Tom almost swore out loud as he saw Alexander Lestrange standing there. What was _that _stuck up prat doing here?

Lestrange walked towards them, his eyes meeting Tom's coldly and Tom wanted to sneer as a superior glint passed through the prat's eyes.

"Riddle." Lestrange greeted rather shortly.

"Lestrange." Tom returned in a perfunctory manner.

Lestrange turned his attention to Hermione who looked as though she was sitting and watching their exchange with interest. She then looked at Lestrange curiously, obviously wondering why he was here too.

"Alphard said that he saw you at the Leaky Cauldron. I wanted to take this opportunity to come and apologise to you… formerly." He said, and Tom had to control a snicker at how awkward and stiff Lestrange was.

Hermione gave a small smile. "Oh really, it's fine. Er, I didn't get hit in the end…" She replied awkwardly.

Lestrange quickly glanced at Tom. "Yes, it was lucky you weren't hit. Again, I wanted to reiterate my sincerest apologies."

"What spell did you use anyway?" Hermione suddenly asked, looking curious. Tom was slightly surprised at how there seemed to be no anger or offence on her behalf at Lestrange. _Curious little witch, _he thought. Tom watched with satisfaction as Lestrage's cheeks tinged a slight red; obviously embarrassed at having to go into further detail.

"_Engorgio skullus_." Lestranged muttered and looked away.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up, and to Tom's complete and utter surprise she burst out laughing. It was strange watching her laugh, usually she was on-guard about one thing or another – or too busy being thoroughly offended at _everything – _well, around Tom anyway. He also noted how Lestrange was looking at her in surprise. Obviously he was expecting her to be outraged as well – like most girls would have been.

She finally finished laughing. "Quite the nasty hex." She commented with mirth. "Do you even know the counter-spell?"

Lestrange stood up straighter, hands clasped behind back. "Of course I do. One does not cast a spell he doesn't know the counter for." He almost recited mechanically.

Hermione looked to be biting the inside of her cheek – obviously trying to hold further laughter in. "Right… well, from the impression I got, I would assume that that Smith's head was already big enough."

Tom watched in annoyance as Lestrange's lips twitched. "Yes, well, I'd like to think that it was a lesson in a literal sense… Perhaps even out the physical characteristics with the mental ones."

Hermione laughed again. "Well, now that he's been 'outed' as a bit of a cheat, I highly doubt he'll be invited to anymore quidditch matches." She commented. "With that said I accept your apology."

Lestrange's shoulders noticeably loosened. "Well to make up for it… I was, ah, wondering if you'd…" He paused and Tom noted the annoyed look he was shot for merely being present. Tom did not take the hint and continued to stand there. If he wanted privacy, he was going to have to ask for it, and the pompous git would never drop his pureblood manners with a girl in the room.

Lestrange took a breath and looked away from Tom and back at Hermione, who Tom noted was watching the exchange with a calculating look in her eyes.

"… Would you allow me to take you to get ice cream one afternoon?" He blurted out quickly.

Tom kept his features schooled, but on the inside he was completely surprised. One of the prissiest purebloods around was willing to be seen in public with a girl whose blood status he didn't know of. Nor was she the girl who Tom knew his parents had been pushing him to marry – one of those unattractive Parkinson bints.

_Well, this was certainly a change from the Lestrange first encountered at Hogwarts, _Tom thought_. _He hadn't been able prove his heritage for arseholes like Lestrange and Malfoy in his first few years at Hogwarts. Anger flashed through him as he recalled their cruel taunts and pranks that whilst Tom learnt to deflect very quickly, still caused utter fury when he remembered them. Whilst their prick of a friend Black just seemed to sit back and ignore most of what happened in Slytherin; either too preoccupied with quidditch or his school marks.

They soon learnt their lessons though. Nothing could, of course, be brought back on Tom though. Then he secured his own group, his Knights, and was undisputedly the most intelligent student in Hogwarts… so _unfortunately _for Lestrange and Malfoy, there wasn't much that they could do to touch him. Showing any obvious discord in Slytherin was the one rule that was never broken by anyone. Any disagreements never left the Slytherin quarters, and this suited Tom's needs just fine.

Tom turned his attention back to Hermione and realised that she was still looking at Lestrange in surprise, with Lestrange staring back at her expectantly.

"That really isn't necessary, I mean you already apologised." She replied, but there was no malice in her covert rebuff.

"Oh I insist - just as friends of course." He replied. "I would detest the idea that you simply know me as the man who almost hit you with a terrible hex."

Hermione bit on her lower lip. "Oh… well, I guess it's no problem then… just as… er, friends. When would you like to go?"

"How about tomorrow afternoon?" He suggested.

"Okay. Well, I guess I'll see you then." She replied.

Lestrange took this as his cue to leave. "Good day to you Miss Edwards," He nodded his head politely, before giving Tom a short glance, "Riddle." He noted.

Tom merely nodded his head, not saying anything, and watched as Lestrange stiffly made his way out of the store. Once he was out of sight, he turned back to Hermione, who had a strange look on her face.

"So," He began, breaking the silence, "are you interested in reading the book?"

Hermione looked at him surprised. Maybe she had been expecting him to make some sort of comment about Lestrange. Tom purposely didn't for that reason alone. The more off-guard he put her with his actions, the more she would be forced to make decisions quickly; which is exactly how Tom wanted things to operate between them. Not waiting for her to answer, he continued.

"How about I come over at my lunch break tomorrow?" He asked. Tom knew that by her being in her own space, it would simply reassure her more to agree.

"Oh, I couldn't make you give up your lunch break." She replied.

Tom merely smirked, "Well I highly doubt that being in here," Tom gestured towards all the books, "is a waste of my time… although I suppose you have a fair point, you can therefore provide lunch."

Hermione's mouth opened and then closed again in surprise. Crossing her arms, she furrowed her eyebrows. Tom observed that she was obviously weighing up the pros and cons as to whether she should accept his offer. Finally she sighed and looked back up at him.

"Fine." She replied. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow at lunch."

Tom decided that now was the time to leave, before she had too much time to rethink her decision.

"Very well, see you tomorrow Hermione." He replied, and before she could say anything in response, he smoothly turned on his feet. Flicking his wand in the air, he heard a huff of annoyance as he undid the hair spell and her hair fell all over the place. Tom's smirk widened as he heard her mutter some rather unsavoury curse words directed at her hair.

"_Thank you!_" She called out sarcastically as he walked off.

Tom didn't turn around, if he did she would surely notice how pleased he looked with himself – and that just wouldn't do at all. No, he was waiting to share that particular look with her when he managed to wrench all her secrets from her.

It would take time, something that at this point in his life; Tom felt he had almost an unlimited supply of…

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><p><strong>There you have it! Chapter 7! *wipes forehead from having to type so many words*<strong>

**Firstly, apologies for my (possible) terrible latin. The nightmare spell I completely made up in the first scene, well if the wording isn't entirely correct, don't shoot. Apparently '_nocens somnium fio proprius somnus' _basically means something along the lines of "bad dreams become permanent sleep".**

**And Hermione stupidly walking into that presentation by Vablatsky… tsk, tsk, tsk. Oh well, at least Tom wasn't being a stalker for once (this will probably not happen very often haha). Now he feels justified in his own quest to find out who she is.**

**Okay, so I know since the introduction of Pottermore, we have found out that McGonagall was, in fact, born around 1936… I've decided to deviate from canon to put her in the same age group as Hermione and Tom. Plus I know that JK has gone into detail of Minerva actually being muggleborn (which I kept). BUT I decided to pair her off with Alphard… because well, I often wondered how a Black who was a Slytherin had sympathy for Sirius (enough to get blasted off the family tree anyway). Anyway, this whole off shoot story started developing in my head whilst thinking about Minerva never seeming to have anyone (of course we know differently now *shakes fist at pottermore* and Alphard never marrying – despite being the eldest son and heir)…**

**Alphard is his own kettle of fish. He's multitude of contradicting characteristics. From who he wants to be, who he grew up with and who he loves… I wouldn't like to be inside his head!**

**I hope Hermione accepting to go to ice cream (haha, lame *cough* I mean nice date idea, Lestrange) doesn't seem to out of character. I will explain this further in chapter 8.**

**And of course, now Tom has found an excuse to see Hermione regularly… in a very unassuming way! Sneaky Dark Lord!**

**Thank you for reading and I welcome all reviews!**

**Cheers**

**Shan**


	8. Chapter 8

**Welcome to Chapter 8 my wonderful, wonderful readers!**

**Special thanks to: Schnuersenkel, ShimmeringWater, eliseyweesey, 23, e_m_o_m_i_n_t, StValentineSt, Nerys, AvoidedIsland, Serpent_In_Red, HereToRead84, AwesomePersonlolxx, Dream_a_Dream123, LeahHeartsSirius, KatieMarrie, forever4, rising_of_the_darkness, sun-emperor, bubz, FiOnAFiO, abcdreamer, aringle42, KThxBai, IDOBELIEVEINFARIESIDOIDO, ChamberlinofMusic, CheshireCat23, Jen103, LK_HoGwArTs_hEaDgIrL, xoRetributionox, The_Wandering_Traveler (XD), Wandering Traveler's consort (XD) and Megii_of_Mysteri_OusStranger for all leaving reviews.**

**I am dedicating this chapter to the residents of Gutter City… You all know who you are ;)**

********Disclaimer****:** ******This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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><p><em>XXX<em>

_She wants to meet her fate but travel by free will / But you can't have both and you can't stand still, still, still / I'll be the luckiest man in the universe if cause and effect doesn't get there first / But she keeps looking for patterns and the world just happens – Something for Kate (Déjà vu)_

_XXX  
><em>

Hermione leaned against a bookcase in exasperation. It had been an unusually busy morning in the shop, and she had been roped in several times to help Tarquin deal with customer after customer. She had just gotten rid of the last customer, an elderly lady who had talked Hermione's ear off for Merlin knows how long about anything and everything. Hermione figured that the old woman had simply been lonely; therefore she had been too polite to move her on and had lost most of her morning because of it.

She smiled at Tarquin who – looking absolutely flustered – came and stood beside her and exhaled loudly.

"Bloody hell, if I get one more customer through here saying _'I don't know the title, can't remember who wrote it or what's on the cover…Do you know the book I'm talking about?' _I think I will resort to the most unseemly behaviour."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him. "At least you weren't stuck listening to that old woman for what felt like hours." She commented.

Tarquin grinned, "Ah yes, if I hadn't have been so busy I would've come to your rescue. Mrs Bisley often corners me… although it looks as though she has found a new victim. Watch out, you'll be the new flavour of the month." He joked. "And then you won't be able to get rid of her."

"That isn't funny."

"Well it is… for me, that is." He grinned cheekily.

Hermione shook her head. "Well I haven't been able to get anything sorted this morning at all, which is annoying."

"Do you mind waiting to sort a bit longer? I need to get some lunch or I'm going to bloody well pass out!"

"I _suppose_ so," She replied in a mock exasperated tone, "Go on, before we get inundated even more." She said, making a shooing motion.

"Thanks, you're a darling!" He half-yelled as he bounded out of the shop.

Hermione grinned as she watched him leave and headed up to the front counter and made herself comfortable on the spindly stool. Leaning against the counter, she yawned and rubbed a hand through her hair, which no doubt looked like a horror _again_ after this morning. Annoyance rushed through her as she realised that she had again forgotten to buy something to help keep it back. Idly, she wondered what kind of spell Riddle had used to tie her hair back the day before.

How was it that a wizard knew that spell and she didn't? Well, it would be a cold night in hell before she'd ask _him _what it was. Staring at the counter, she grinned when she spotted a random piece of twine and with a bit of concentration, she used it to tie back her hair and grinned in satisfaction when it held. _There, that will do just fine! _She thought, satisfied, as she gingerly patted her new ponytail.

Thinking of that spell reminded her that Riddle would, of course, be arriving soon with the book. She still didn't understand it. He said that he didn't want anything. Although Hermione quickly reminded herself that he didn't do things for free… although he didstate that the _only_ condition was that he was present when she was reading it. That was it. Nothing else… _apparently_. Hermione sighed; she shouldn't have agreed to it at all. After all, who knew what went on in his head? Well, at least Hermione could admit that she had a better idea than most. Yet here she was, accepting to spend time with him so she could read a book. _But it wasn't just any book_, she thought, feeling a small amount of justification. She knew from reading the history of Wenlock's work that the original edition had gone missing sometime in the 1800's. Dolohov's family had obviously come across the book in a less than legal matter… really, she should report it to the Ministry – it belonged with Wenlock's ancestors, or the Ministry archives – not holed away in some pureblood family's library. Hermione felt slightly guilty… but she couldn't go to the Ministry – she might attract unnecessary attention to herself, and she was grimly reminded of why she couldn't do that.

She suddenly felt as though she had sunk to a new low. _Reading books in control of the future Dark Lord… _What would Harry or Ron say if they found out? They would be angry with her - that was for sure. But she had just gotten so caught up with the thought of getting her hands on that book that she had been blinded. Reading Wenlock's _own _personal notes was just too tempting. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity! Arithmancy was one of Hermione's most favourite magical subjects and she had even spent some time working on several specialised Arithmancy projects whilst in her graduate program at the Ministry. She reasoned that her getting to read that book would have been like Ron finally seeing the Chudley Cannons win the Quidditch World Cup… or perhaps, even _one _game for that matter.

_Riddle was always around, anyway_, she thought in hasty annoyance – trying to ignore the fact that her internal monologue continuously ended in some sort of justification of her recent behaviour. Well, it wasn't a lie, he was _always _around. Hermione wasn't stupid; she had obviously become some sort of curiosity for him… well, if she wasn't prior to that, she would definitely be now – thanks to Vablatsky. She just had to be careful, pretend as though she belonged here… If she fought him, and no one else knew about her past except Dumbledore, then the odds were looking quite good in her favour, she reasoned.

Hermione therefore ignored the niggling voice that reminded her that Riddle had eventually become a Master of Legilimency. Well, if he was already on his way, he hadn't attempted anything on her yet. Not once had she felt him try to enter her mind – something she was quite familiar with from her training at the Ministry. Hermione blanched at the memory of having her thoughts invaded by her supervisor. Hermione had struggled with Occlumency – it simply wasn't something that could be taught theoretically, it was a skill that you had to master through your own emotional control. She had passed the requirements for an Unspeakable – which, admittedly, were higher than what would be expected for an ordinary person. Obviously it was an important skill to have as an Unspeakable – considering the important projects they were involved in. Without the required training, information could get into the wrong hands – with disastrous outcomes. The only person she had confided with in regards to her difficulty learning the skill and her lower-than-perfect marks was Harry. Harry understood, after everything he had gone through. She hadn't even told Ron – at the time she had felt tired at the thought of even discussing it with him - as Ron didn't care about that sort of thing. He would have just reassured her that she had passed in the end, and that would've been all that mattered. _Well, he had a point,_ Hermione thought wryly, but it was something that had bothered her to no end.

She just had to be careful. If he was going to snoop around her life, she would just need to give him nothing more to be curious about; even though he seemed to be nosey about absolutely everything. _What an annoying git! _She scowled, remembering that she had also agreed to provide him with lunch. She should have poisoned the food – or just put a whole heap of laxatives in it… either way, Hermione would enjoy the outcome. In the end, she had just ended up making sandwiches – nothing fancy, just tomato chutney and cheese. Well, she reasoned, she wasn't going to give Lord Voldemort the satisfaction of enjoying _her _cooking; although she personally loved the simplicity of chutney cheese sandwiches.

She looked up as Tarquin re-entered the shop, a steaming bag of chips in his hand. He gave her a wink as he walked back in.

"Thanks Hermione," He said, mouth full or chips, "I was so hungry."

She smiled and stood up. "You know I could've given you some food from upstairs."

Tarquin quirked an eyebrow. "And miss out on hot chips? Never."

"They'll make you fat if you eat them every day." Hermione commented with a grin.

Tarquin shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "That will never happen to me." He then popped another two chips in his mouth and moaned in delight. "These are _sooo _good – want some?"

"No, that's quite alright… and never say 'never' Tarquin." She smirked at him.

"Don't worry about me darling, I promise you will never stop having to look at this gorgeous body." He replied, and made a sweeping gesture with his hand.

Hermione quirked an eyebrow, trying to hold in her laughter, but before she could respond the door opened again and Tom Riddle entered the shop. Both Tarquin and Hermione turned their attention to him. Tom looked up at the both of them as he shrugged his robe off.

"Ah! Tom, what a surprise!" Tarquin said – voice full of innuendo, and gave a wink to Hermione which caused her to blanch slightly.

"Did you get me chips for lunch then?" Tom asked Hermione, obviously choosing not to comment on Tarquin's insinuation – much to Hermione's embarrassed relief - as he walked up to them.

"No, I made sandwiches." Hermione scowled somewhat at his ordering tone.

"Hermione thinks that chips make you fat." Tarquin added.

"They do!" Hermione turned her attention back to Tarquin, "Especially if you eat them every day, like you do!"

"I'm surprised you're worried about that sort of thing, considering you're going to get ice-cream with Alexander Lestrange this afternoon." Tom said, and smirked.

Hermione's scowl deepened to the point of no return.

"She's what? Since when?" Tarquin asked in shock.

Hermione gave a withering glare to Tom, before she turned to Tarquin. "It's nothing, really."

"But what about dear Ronald! Oh, you'll break his heart, you will!" Tarquin said dramatically.

Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed. "It's _not _a date. He's simply apologising for almost cursing me at that quidditch match. _That's all_." She said, with scary finality.

"I went to school with that bloke. You might not think it's a date, but he probably does." Tarquin responded. "And anyway, would Ronald be pleased about this?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Tarquin. "Well if he does think like that then he will learn pretty quickly that it's not… and Ron wouldn't care because we are perfectly secure in our relationship, thank you very much!" She snapped, though Tarquin was not taking her seriously at all. Turning to Tom, her scowl didn't leave her face, "Well, do you have the book? Come on, I'm hungry and I've only got 40 minutes to read." She huffed and walked off, not even waiting.

She went down the back of the shop where her desk was located and plopped down, and summoned their lunch. Tom Riddle had done that on purpose, and now Tarquin was going to want every single detail about her ice cream 'trip' with Lestrange. Yes, she was calling it a 'trip' because it was _not _a date. She scowled… perhaps she had it wrong and things in this decade were a bit different. No one would bat an eye-lid in her time if she went to coffee or dinner with a male friend. In fact, she had regular catch ups with Neville without their significant others around all the time. All her life in fact, Hermione had found it easier to have male friends rather than female ones. Ginny and Luna were, of course, exceptions.

She looked up in annoyance as Tom smoothly pulled up a chair and sat down next to her.

"Thank you, very much…" She muttered, and pushed his sandwich towards him.

"I'm sorry Hermione, I didn't realise that he didn't know." Tom replied smoothly. Hermione looked at him and was extremely irritated to see that his eyes were betraying the other other-wise apologetic expression he was wearing.

"Well, it doesn't matter, does it? Now, do you have the book?" Hermione asked as she picked up her sandwich. When she looked up, she realised that Tom simply was looking at her – eyebrows raised – as though he was highly amused by her.

"What?" She asked, about to bite into her sandwich.

"Where's my book?" He asked.

Hermione's eyebrows rose. "Er, I don't know… Just pick one from the shelves." She gestured around them.

"But I don't know what to pick." He mused. "I don't really think that it's fair, do you? Me, sitting here without something to read… and you're enjoying the book I'm so kindly letting you read."

"But that wasn't part of the deal!" Hermione quickly shot back, before she even had time to think. "The deal was that you would let me read the book as long as you were present!"

"But what am I supposed to do whilst you sit there and read?" He asked, his eyes wide with faux-innocence.

Hermione clenched her fists. She _knew _that there would be something – anything in fact – which allowed him to be utterly irritating. Hermione was suddenly irked to think that she was more annoyed at him, than she was fearful of him. Taking a deep breath, she looked back up at him and smiled sweetly.

"Perhaps you could enjoy your sandwich whilst I read." She replied, her smile so fake it could rival his supposed 'look' of innocence.

"Come on Hermione; just recommend something that I can read. Then you can enjoy the book – no interruptions."

"But that's not the point! The deal was that you would bring the book and I would read it!" Hermione quickly retorted, realising that she was repeating herself and was most probably going to lose for that matter.

"What's the issue? I don't see what's wrong with getting me a book… just something to, you know, pass the time." He replied all-too-innocently.

Hermione mentally counted to ten before exhaling a breath she didn't even realise that she was holding in. Pasting another smile on her face, she quickly stood up and went and retrieved the potions book she had told Minerva about. The only reason she chose that particular book was that she had a sneaking suspicion that if the book wasn't up to standard that it would become another issue… and then she'd never get to read that book.

Handing him the potions book, she noted the curious glint in his eyes. Hermione smirked; he obviously hadn't read it before.

"Here, have you read this?" She asked innocently, feeling superior because she had in fact read it. _Twice._

Tom looked at the book, face remaining blank. "No. Obviously you have though." He commented lightly as he opened it to a random page, his eyes instantly drawn to the content – a mixture of history, theory and then the directions, something which was different to the required potions texts used whilst at Hogwarts, which only held a brief description and directions.

"Hogwarts doesn't even have it. I only know of one other copy in existence which is in the Ministry." Hermione replied smugly.

Tom looked up at her and raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Oh really? You know this how exactly?"

Hermione quickly stopped herself from reacting. It annoyed her how he had to make _everything _sound suspicious. "Minerva McGonagall told me that she had never seen it there." She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, face blank. "Now, can I please have my book?" She asked, trying her best not to sound impatient and effectively changing the direction of the conversation in the process.

Tom looked up from the book and reached down into the leather satchel he brought with him and carefully removed the book. Hermione had to stop herself from reaching over and taking it; this debacle in finding him a book had already almost cost her ten minutes of reading time.

Quietly thanking him, she cautiously took the book and looked down at it. This is what she had been so desperate to read ever since she had first started learning Arithmancy. Opening it, she was quickly dragged in, not even noticing the future Dark Lord that sat beside her with a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he observed her.

* * *

><p>Hermione was so busy reading through the book, trying to take in all the information; she didn't even register her surroundings anymore. However an amused snigger brought her out of her book. She looked up just as Tom shook his head going through the potion book.<p>

"What is it?" She asked curiously, before eyeing her sandwich and realising that she hadn't touched it at all yet.

"Hm?" He replied, looking up from the book.

"What are you reacting too?" Hermione pressed and then reached for her food. Her stomach growled angrily at being ignored. Hermione eyed Tom and assumed that he didn't even realise he had made an obvious reaction to something.

"If my old potions Professor had a read of this, he would have a heart attack." He replied.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up curiously. "What are you talking about?"

"Barrufio's Brain Elixir." He simply said.

"And?" Hermione pressed. She had no idea what he was going on about.

"Well, this book states that you need to grind all of the ingredients-" He began in an incredulous tone, but was quickly cut off by Hermione.

"Of course you need to grind all of the ingredients. Otherwise how will it effectively enter the blood stream quickly?" Hermione interrupted quickly. "I mean, it's quite obvious, considering the Elixir is only a short term stimulant, you would need to absorb it as quickly as possible."

Tom smirked and raised his eyebrows. "What I was trying to say - before you interrupted me - was that _Advanced Potion Making _directed you to cut, not grind, the ingredients. Hence the potion would have extremely different outcomes."

"But…" Hermione quickly stopped herself. The _Advanced Potion Making _text didn't state that in _her _time. Though if she truly recalled, she realised that her text book had not been the first edition... which meant that the mistake had obviously been rectified sometime between now and Hermione's schooling years. She looked at Tom, who was watching her carefully, obviously waiting to see what she was about to say.

When she didn't continue, he simply shrugged his shoulders. "It would be interesting to see the effects of the potion with using this other technique… You seem to know all about it…" He commented rather dryly.

Hermione's cheeks flushed in indignation. "I would never use such a potion! It's almost like cheating!"

"Well how do you know so much about it then? And of course you seem to be most aware of getting the best reaction from it." He said, a triumphant smirk gracing his perfect features.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "I haven't. It-it simply seemed like the most obvious way to make the potion most effective. Perhaps, _for your information_, I even might have a flair for potion making!" She replied angrily.

She noted in annoyance how he was obviously trying to hold his laughter in. He was so irritating! She would love to wipe that smirk off his face… since it always seemed to permanently stuck there. The worst part was that the smirk didn't distort or taint his features; Hermione was loathe to admit that it made the git look even more handsome. _In a completely arrogant way! _Her mind quickly added, feeling heat on her cheeks as she scowled at him.

"Okay," He began with amusement clear in his voice, "I believe that you would _never dare _to try it." He finished, mockingly.

Hermione felt even more anger rise in her. "Well some of us actually have morals… Have _you _tried it?" She asked, though the tone of her voice hinted that she expected him to have tried a potion that she completely disapproved of.

She noted that Tom's eyes glinted, and she suddenly regretted saying anything. She couldn't help herself though. He continuously angered her, and in the heat of the moment she was too angry to remember who he was or control what came out of her mouth, for that matter.

She watched as Tom placed the book down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his long legs. He looked her right in the eye, and she shuddered at his now close proximity. "Why Hermione," He said quietly, as though her name was merely a breath of air he was taking, "are you suggesting that my morals are anything less than scrupulous?" His expression was completely innocent, although, she carefully noted that his eyes told a completely different story.

Hermione took in a deep breath, and unconsciously leaned back, trying to remove herself from the overarching presence that he had suddenly created. She had no idea how he managed to do that, it almost felt as though the pressure and atmosphere of the entire shop had changed in the blink of an eye. He continued to stare at her, head tilted as though he was merely studying her and that nothing else was going on. She then watched as one of his hands slowly rubbed his jaw line in what could be interpreted as contemplation.

She wanted to break this sudden change in the air, and purposely blinked, breaking off their momentary staring competition and bit her lip. "Why, why would I insinuate such a thing?" She asked, trying to sound offhand about the entire exchange.

"You tell me." Tom simply stated, though he didn't moved from his current position.

"Well… well you were teasing me. And, well, I simply wondered…. Since you did comment – after all – that you'd be interested to see the effect of this method. I guess I assumed…" She trailed off weakly.

Tom suddenly leaned back and Hermione exhaled, feeling all the previous pressure tension quickly disperse.

"Why would I use one of those potions? I hardly need one." He replied, not even remarking about her weak excuse – which admittedly surprised her.

Hermione would normally find such a comment incredibly arrogant, however the way he said it, it was more self-assured than anything. It was as though he was simply stating a fact that everyone should know… _that Tom Riddle was exceptionally bright_. Hermione had to grudgingly admit that he was bright, even though he was the complete epitome of evil.

"Anyway, my lunch is coming to an end, so I really need to get back to work." He said, as if the last few minutes didn't even happen.

Hermione stared at him. She was still surprised that he had dropped the whole thing… _for now_, she couldn't help but think.

"So I'll need this…" He said as he fluidly reached across right in front of her and grabbed the book, and Hermione felt incredibly nervous with his close proximity. She noted in annoyance that he seemed completely unaffected by it all. _Stupid intimidating prat!_

He stood up, carefully placing the book in his bag and smirked at Hermione. "Well I guess I'll see you tomorrow. Oh, and I also enjoy ham and mustard sandwiches too." He said, causing Hermione to narrow her eyes at him.

"Am I expected to make you lunch every time you let me read that book?" She asked, unable to hide the annoyed tinge in her voice.

"Well, I think that's fair," He said, as he began to walk away, "I _am _after all, doing you the favour… Oh and enjoy your date with Lestrange." He called over his shoulder, already on his way out of the shop.

"It's not a date!" She quickly retorted in frustration. But it was too late, he was out of sight. Though Hermione could have sworn she heard him chuckle.

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><p>It was finally the afternoon and Hermione was getting ready to close up the shop after an equally hectic afternoon. Tarquin had already called it a day, but had demanded that she was to give him a 'full report' the next day about going to ice cream with Lestrange. Hermione rolled her eyes at the thought. Honestly, she thought he was worse than Ginny in some aspects. If he didn't continuously talk about that girl he liked so much, she would seriously wonder about his sexuality… This whole situation bothered her; if she knew everyone was going to make such a big fuss, she would have simply declined.<p>

She simply kept forgetting just how 'conservative' people in this age seemed. Of course, now that she had hindsight on her side, she realised that she was the ridiculous one for agreeing to it. If only she had time to think about it, but of course, she was put on the spot. _That, _of course, seemed to be a regular occurrence lately… having to make quick decisions. Hermione missed her easy days of where she could simply mull over a decision and weigh up all the pros and cons equally. That was one of the joys of working in a government job, after all.

There was a brisk knock on the front door and Hermione looked up, noting that Lestrange had arrived. She gave him a small smile and wave before grabbing her robe and throwing it on. As she took a quick glance down at herself, she randomly thought that she really needed to do some clothes shopping. She had now been stuck here longer than anticipated, and her bare minimum wardrobe wasn't even cutting it for someone who had always prided herself on being low maintenance.

She opened the door and stepped out, noting that since September had started, the temperature had made a noticeable change. Hermione greeted Lestrange quietly, as she closed and locked the door behind her.

"Miss Edwards, you look very nice." He complimented as she turned back to face him.

Hermione's eyebrows rose at the compliment. She was pretty sure that she looked extremely harried after the day that she had, and wanted to correct him almost straight away. Though as she observed him as they stepped into the crowd – how formally he held himself, she realised that she shouldn't bother correcting him – it would be a natural thing for him to compliment the person he was with.

"Thanks, and please just call me Hermione." She replied politely, not really knowing how to speak to him.

"Just call me Alex then. Thank you for accompanying me." He replied.

"Oh, well, I actually haven't had ice cream in such a long time." She replied.

"Really? Do you not like it? We could go somewhere else if it suits?" He said, looking somewhat concerned about the idea that he had made a bad choice.

"No, no," She laughed, "I love ice cream… but my parents were rather strict about sweets and sugar, so I guess I never think to treat myself to it." She explained.

"Oh? Well I treat myself to it all the time." He gave a small smirk.

As they made their way through the usual Diagon Alley crowd, Hermione noted he was rather attractive, in that aristocratic way. He was quite tall; definitely over six foot two, with auburn hair that was much darker than Ron's more ginger-coloured hair, and a straight nose with a well-defined jaw line. Hermione was sure that he would have his pick of witches if wanted.

"So I really am sorry about the curse-" He began but Hermione quickly cut him off.

"Really, it's fine… I mean, no harm done." She quickly said.

"Right, well it's not the kind of man I am." He replied seriously.

Hermione had to acknowledge that she had been wondering about the kind of man he was; which was one of the reasons she had admittedly accepted his offer at first. She was curious after seeing the way he had interacted with Riddle, it was quite obvious that they despised one-another. This surprised Hermione greatly, as she had always thought that the Lestrange's had been loyal followers of Voldemort. She had already deduced from the obvious that Alphard and Lestrange must have been good friends, and she also recalled the strange look that had been shared between Minerva and Alphard when the fact that Riddle had stepped in and saved her from the curse came up in conversation. Perhaps not all the students of Hogwarts had been as enamoured by Mr Perfect, like she initially guessed. She wondered how Riddle had raised the ire of Lestrange and Alphard. Another thing she wondered was whether Lestrange was as evil as his successors, if he wasn't in Riddle's pocket.

"Alphard mentioned that you haven't been in London for long." Lestrange commented conversationally.

So in the time it took for them to make it to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, Hermione gave him the same run down she had given everyone about her arrival. It was starting to irritate her that she had to repeat it so often; hopefully she wouldn't have to keep telling it much more.

When they finally reached the small parlour, Hermione grinned as they entered. She hadn't been here since she arrived in the past and the place just hadn't been the same since Mr Fortescue was abducted and killed by Death Eaters during the war. Another family had taken over and she smiled as she remembered Harry complaining that the ice-cream tasted more 'watery' than when Fortescue ran it. She personally thought that Harry was just bitter that he didn't get free ice-cream anymore.

They stepped up to the counter and Hermione smiled as a much younger looking Fortescue stepped up to serve them.

"Ah, Alex, here for your usual, I'm guessing?" The man said, giving Lestrange an affable smile. Hermione guessed that the two knew each other quite well. She mused that he must, in deed, enjoy it quite regularly.

"Of course, Mr Fortescue." He smiled and then turned to Hermione, "What would you like Hermione?"

"Oh! Um…" Hermione looked up at the board and had no idea what to choose. Despite the fact that she never thought to eat ice-cream much, now that she was here, she realised how much she had missed it. "I'm not sure…" She thought out loud as she scanned the menu.

"Don't feel rushed, dear." Mr Fortescue replied cheerfully.

Hermione nodded and continued scanning; it was then that she spotted it. The one thing her parents absolutely refused to let her have whenever they got ice-cream… It was something that Hermione had always wanted as a child, yet was always denied it.

"I'll take the Knickerbocker Glory please." She grinned and then bit down on her lip in anticipation. She imagined her Mother's face if she saw what she was up to. Both of her parents would be absolutely mortified. Hermione's parents had usually only ever allowed her a small scoop of strawberry ice-cream in a cone whenever they went on holidays or what they considered 'special events'. Even as Hermione became her own adult, her parents reprimanding tones regarding what they considered 'bad' food always – without fail – ran through her head when she made her choices. For once, Hermione chose not to deny herself.

Florean laughed and Lestrange's eyes widened slightly. "Miss, are you sure you can handle it? Such a tiny little mite you are." Florean commented, as he began to prepare their order.

"Oh most definitely." She replied, full of self-assurance.

"So this is what happens when parents deny their children sweets?" Lestrange drawled, though she could tell he was merely teasing with the small smile that curled his lips.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I suppose… what is your 'regular' then?" She asked.

"Strawberry and chocolate with fudge sauce and flaked almonds." He recited easily.

"All the time?" She asked.

"Most certainly. Do you always order that?" He said, and nodded as Florean began to fill the tall ice-cream glass.

"No; but how could I resist since it's been so long between ice-creams? I do also like vanilla with chocolate sauce though." She answered.

"Well, it's a challenge then… we can't leave until you've eaten the whole thing." He replied with a dead serious expression on his face, though she could see the mirth in his eyes.

"Fine." She replied, a determined expression appearing on her face. "You're on."

* * *

><p>Hermione groaned. There were at least three more mouthfuls left in her serving and she wasn't sure if she could manage to eat them. The vanilla and strawberry ice-cream, strawberry sauce, fruit, wafer and cream now mixed somewhat uncomfortably in her stomach.<p>

"Had enough?" Lestrange, or Alex, as she was trying to think of him as, asked – having long ago finished his ice-cream.

"I'm going to finish this." She replied, eyeing off the remains. "I just need time."

"You don't have to." He replied. "Don't make yourself ill." He then added in a serious and overly responsible tone.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. She was thoroughly enjoying it. She also actually didn't mind Alex. He seemed nice enough, albeit a bit awkward when the conversation gone into a lull. They had talked about the many regular topics you discussed when you first met someone; interests, hobbies and family – well obviously Hermione skirted around that particular topic. Though he spoke of his family, who he seemed to get along with, though didn't see his parents that often. He was an only child, confirming her suspicions that he had to be the father of Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange. Hermione was therefore confused that he wasn't one of Voldemort's lackeys, as Rodolphus and Rabastan were two of his most dedicated and dangerous Death Eaters. Hermione was desperately curious to find out why then, it seemed as though Tom and Alex hated one-another. It irritated her to no end that it would be completely inappropriate to just ask him; Hermione hated not being able to know something.

She had initially worried very much that he was treating it as a date; therefore she was sure to mention the fact that she had a boyfriend as soon as it was tastefully possible and she thought it was a lovely, _friendly_ gesture for him to invite her out like this. He didn't even bat an eyelid at her mention of a boyfriend, which made Hermione feel much better.

"So," He began, and Hermione wanted to giggle at the way he attempted to sound casual, it just wasn't in his blood – quite literally, "what is your project based on?" He asked.

Hermione explained that it was based around Ancient Runes and kept it at the bare minimum.

"It's still very exploratory at this stage," She concluded her explanation, "therefore I wouldn't want to go into too much ridiculous detail and bore you."

"So is Riddle assisting you with your studies?" He suddenly asked, causing Hermione to almost spit her mouthful of ice-cream out at him.

"What?" She asked, wide-eyed.

Lestrange suddenly looked nervous. "I'm sorry; I did not mean to pry in such a way..." He explained.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, well perhaps she wouldn't have to sneakily broach the subject after all. "No, no, he's not – why do you ask?"

"Well," He gripped the back of his neck in what Hermione perceived as him being uncomfortable, "He's just been around the two times I've seen you. Also, he was always involved in… academic pursuits… I was just curious – I apologise, it really isn't my place to ask anyway."

"It's fine," Hermione assured, "He actually offered to help… but no, he just always seems to be conveniently around…" She answered the last part contemplatively – more for herself – rather than him. "Forgive me for prying, but you two don't seem to like each other very much…?"

Lestrange's eyebrows shot up. "So, you noticed that, did you?" He asked.

Hermione simply nodded her head.

"Well I would say it's neither… here no there? He was a year younger than me so it's not like I was in his age group, nor did we hang around in the same groups at school. I guess you could say we didn't really see eye-to-eye… you would understand that some people just don't get along?"

Hermione mused over his statement, immediately trying to analyse every word. "I suppose so. I guess there are just some people who don't click." She replied as she thought about what he had just said. _What did he mean?_ Did he know about the kinds of things Riddle got up to in school – or was this based around something else? Or maybe they just simply didn't get along?

"Exactly." He agreed.

They remained silent as Hermione finished the rest of her ice-cream. She gave a proud sigh as she was finally able to push the empty ice-cream glass away from her.

"Well, I must say, I have never seen a girl eat so much ice-cream." He commented.

"It was very enjoyable, thanks again." She replied giving him a small smile.

"Not a problem, it was very enjoyable company." He complimented. Hermione wondered if he was telling the truth. She admitted that it had been nice, but there were quite a few awkward stalls in conversation, which she had struggled to manoeuvre out of.

"Thanks. Well it's getting late, so I suppose I should get back home…" She replied and stood up.

"Oh…" Lestrange watched her get up, "Would you like me to escort you to your apparition point then?" He quickly stood up and Hermione was reminded of those overly formal men in the period dramas she used to watch with her Mother on the BBC.

"Apparition point?" She asked, confused. She didn't need- "Ohhhh!" She exclaimed, catching on, "no, I actually live in the flat above the bookshop. You're welcome to walk me back if you wish?"

"Oh," His eyebrows rose in surprise, "Certainly; shall we?" He asked and held the crook of his arm out.

Hermione stared strangely at his arm, but linked her arm in anyway, so she didn't seem rude. She had seen men walking with women like that in the alley – she just thought it was odd that he was doing it now. Perhaps because he felt as though he knew her better now?

As they walked through Diagon Alley, there was little conversation, as Hermione really didn't have much to say to be completely honest. When they reached the door of the shop, she turned and smiled at him.

"Thank you, it was nice to get out and I haven't had ice-cream in such a long time." She said politely. "And you have officially repaid whatever debt you were worried about." She added.

"Oh… right. Well, I guess I will see you?" He asked, staring at her.

She felt a bit exposed under his scrutiny, but smiled, her cheeks tinging slightly. "Of course. Well goodnight Alex."

"Goodnight Hermione." He smirked and bowed his head slightly before leaving.

* * *

><p>Hermione sighed as she walked between the aisles; she had fortunately been able to get a lot of sorting done in the last couple of days, in between putting up with Tarquin's constant chatter about her supposed 'date' with Alexander Lestrange and the smugness that was Tom Riddle.<p>

She unconsciously scowled as she thought about Tom Riddle. The way he sat, the way he spoke – everything was so arrogant and seemingly well-rehearsed. She wondered if he spent every morning practicing each and every facial expression he intended to use that day. There was no way it was possible that someone could be that cool, calm and collected _all _the time. Not to mention he would constantly cause her to lose focus whilst they were reading. He would, without fail, comment on whatever he was reading and then Hermione would end up getting into a debate with him on whatever the subject matter was – causing Hermione's progress on reading Wenlock's book to be much too slow for her liking. It also didn't help that he seemed to always easily finish whatever he was reading, which hurt Hermione's pride somewhat. _She _had always been the fastest reader, or the one to grasp things before everyone else. Admittedly, she wasn't used to dealing with someone who easily understood every single one of her views on magic, even if he didn't necessarily agree on them. It bothered her immensely that this person just happened to be Voldemort.

"What's bothering you Hermione? You look really scary when you're angry." Tarquin commented as he walked into her aisle.

Hermione spun around, "What are you talking about?" She asked, rather hotly.

"You look like you've sucked on a lemon." He said rather plainly.

"Oh." She brought her hands to her face. "Well, I'm fine."

"Right, right, you're _always _fine." He responded sarcastically. "If you're that mad at him, perhaps you should give him an ultimatum." He said seriously.

Hermione stopped looking through the book she had been handling and turned to Tarquin… Did he somehow know? Was there some kind of cunning person located under his happy-go-lucky, take everyone at 'face value' personality?

"I mean, tell him that if he doesn't come and visit you, it's over. That will sort out his true feelings; let me tell you that right now. Blokes just need to be told straight Hermione."

"_Oh_." He thought she was thinking about Ron. Well, that was another thing she was trying not to think about. Her birthday was coming up and she would most likely be spending it here, not with Ron or her family.

"Just say it. I mean you could even warn him of all the male attention you've been getting. Maybe that'll set him straight." He joked, eyes twinkling.

Hermione sighed, her chest aching slightly. "Yeah…" She trailed off, wondering what Ron would be doing in his time. Would he be trying to find her? What was the future even like now? This then got her thinking about the many different theories behind time travel, and it made her head hurt even more, so she immediately pushed it down - just like she had been doing since she arrived here. Pushed it down and locked it away.

She felt a comforting hand on her shoulder, looking up, she saw Tarquin had stepped closer and was giving her a genuine smile. "If you ever need to talk – about _anything _– I'm here to listen… I know I've said it before, but you're my friend and I worry about you sometimes." She felt a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder and she smiled. He truly was a good person, naïve, but good.

She swallowed her mood and gave pasted on a cheeky grin. "Well, as your friend, I think you need to take your own advice… I hear so much about that girl you like, yet you never seem to do anything about it." She said.

Tarquin groaned. "Well, it's difficult…"

"How?" Hermione scoffed.

"Well… because… she's kind of _seeingsomeoneelse_!" He quickly blurted out, face heating up. "And I won't do that, you know, try to steal another bloke's bird. Even though I _know_," He said with conviction, "that she's the _only _girl I will ever love!"

"You didn't tell me that!" Hermione replied quickly.

Tarquin shrugged. "It's okay; if she marries him I'll just wallow in self-pity for the rest of my life." He sighed dramatically.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh come off it. I'm sure you won't live like that at all." She reprimanded.

"I will!" He replied.

Hermione simply sighed and shook her head. "Well, don't let life pass you by just because you're focusing on this one girl."

"I'm not letting life 'pass me by' Hermione… Oh, hello Tom." He replied and then gave a wave over Hermione's shoulder. Hermione spun around to find Tom leaning against the bookshelf.

"Hello." He replied politely, eyeing the both of them.

A customer suddenly called from the front of the shop for assistance. Tarquin took this as his cue and walked off, mood seeming bright despite the conversation they just shared. Hermione sighed and then turned back to Tom, realising that lunch time always came around much too quickly.

"You give terrible advice." He said bluntly, before she even had a chance to speak.

"What are you talking about?" She huffed, and began walking to their usual spot.

"_Don't let life pass you by_?" He questioned with a fair imitation of her tone and sniggered.

Hermione felt her mood immediately darken. "What are you talking about? What's wrong with that advice?"

Tom shook his head. "So what, let him just sit back and be okay that something he wants, something he can't have may never be his?"

"Well what sort of advice should I give? Tell him to chase this girl and then potentially ruin a relationship or his pride?"

"What is the point going through life scared to do anything at the risk of offending others?" He retorted to her question.

Hermione huffed and sat down in her chair whilst summoning their lunch: roast beef sandwiches with relish. "And I suppose that you are an expert in that, as well as everything else in the world." She muttered, handing him his sandwich.

Tom took the sandwich and reached for the book he had been reading the day before on Ancient Egyptian magical theory. He looked at her, "I know a lot of things Hermione." He replied smoothly, smirk firmly in place, obviously amused at her completely offended behaviour.

"Right." She answered shortly, deciding to not even deign him with a response as he was obviously just doing it to get a rise out of her.

They both began reading, Hermione concentrating extra hard because she did not want to get distracted today. She was up to a fascinating chapter where Wenlock begins to go into detail about her discovery of the importance of number seven in magic.

"That's one of the most fascinating parts of the book." Tom commented, causing Hermione to tense in annoyance.

"Mmm-hmm." She replied and continued reading.

"I mean, seven is just so entrenched in magical culture, it's hard to believe that the theory doesn't go as far back as the founders…" Tom commented.

"Mmm-hmm." Hermione repeated, she refused to be pulled into another one of his debates on magical theory – as much as she enjoyed arguing – the sooner she finished the book, the better.

"In fact," Tom began and stood over her shoulder, "There is a really interesting paragraph right here," He said, far too close to her, "about her methodology." He pointed to the paragraph which was located about halfway down the next page she was to read.

Hermione couldn't help but notice his subtle cologne, mixed with the fresh smell of soap, and his extremely close proximity. Her lips thinned and her body tensed, not being used to such close contact from someone who she essentially realised she didn't know as well as she thought she did. _How could you?_ She thought, in annoyance; Tom Riddle had more dimensions than anyone she had met, except for maybe Dumbledore.

She knew he was doing this because she was trying to ignore him. She knew, not just from her recent dealings, but even during the war, that Voldemort enjoyed the idea of making people squirm and make them feel irrational. It was almost like a sport for him. Instead of reacting to his nearness, she sniffed humourlessly.

"You're going to ruin it for me." She replied blankly and continued reading, completely ignoring him.

He continued standing there; she didn't know what he was expecting her to do, but she continued ignoring him. It gave her extreme satisfaction, despite how uneasy she felt being so close to him, that he was probably somewhat flummoxed that she wasn't responding to him. _Though he would never show it of course,_ she thought smugly. Normally she always had a retort or would all too eagerly respond to the bait he would lay. Hermione couldn't lie, she _did _enjoy their discussions and arguments to an extent – how could she not? She always enjoyed anything academic, but she also decided that he wasn't always going to get his way either.

Suddenly Tarquin's voice, which sounded louder than usual, interrupted her triumphant thoughts. Hermione guessed he was at least an aisle or two over. The conversation wasn't difficult to miss…

"Oh no, Mrs Bisley, I think that Hermione has actually headed out. I think she had to run some errands or something…" She heard him say, quite clearly.

_Oh bloody hell! _It was that dotty, old woman from the other day! If Hermione was seen, she'd have to relinquish her entire afternoon. She silently thanked Tarquin for so obviously warning her. Quickly snapping the book closed, she looked up at Riddle, who was looking down at her in surprise.

"I have to get out of here." She said seriously and stood up.

"What are you talking about?" He replied, shaking his head – obviously wondering what she was going on about.

"Did you _hear _Tarquin? If I don't hide, I will be stuck listening to that old woman all afternoon!" She hissed, "I'm hiding!"

"Hermione, where on earth-"

"I'm not giving you some kind of explanation! I'm getting out of here… you have no idea… but by all means stay and find out." She smirked mockingly. With that, Hermione quickly dashed behind a book shelf that led to the back office. She quickly opened the door and slammed it behind her, not even waiting to see Riddle's expression.

Suddenly the door started jiggling and she was pushed unceremoniously away as Tom quickly stepped in, shutting it closely behind him. Hermione glared at him from the shelf she managed to catch herself on – instead of toppling onto the ground.

Tom turned and looked at her. "You didn't mention it was Mrs Bisley!" He hissed. "She used to come into Borgin and Burkes all the time trying to sell things."

"Well I thought you fully heard Tarquin giving me a warning! I got stuck with her for hours the other day." Hermione explained plainly as she righted herself.

"Try getting stuck with her day after day for a month!" Tom replied harshly. "Burke had to tell her we _couldn't afford _her goods; that's how bad it got."

Hermione took in his offended expression and suddenly burst out laughing. She never thought she would see him trying to escape someone so vehemently… perhaps his boggart wasn't just death, but dotty old women too. At that thought, she howled in laughter.

"Be quiet Hermione! She might hear." He said strictly.

But Hermione couldn't stop laughing, and Tom had to end up casting a silencing spell – whilst throwing an angry look at Hermione - around the whole room to keep her from being heard. Hermione didn't mind, it was one of the most priceless scenes she had seen in a long time.

Although she suddenly stopped laughing as she realised something important: she was now stuck in a small room with the future Dark Lord…

* * *

><p><strong>Dun-Dun-Dah! Just so you all know, Riddle is NOT going to try and "read her mind" in the room. Yeah, sorry I have a feeling many would ask and I thought I would clear that up, right now. Don't worry I (*cough* I mean the DL does *cough*) have a plan… Plus it would be stupid of him to do it when Tarquin is essentially standing outside and Hermione has her wand on her. And we all know Riddle is someone who bides his time very, very well ;)<strong>

**What fun I had trying to choose an ice-cream for Hermione (Thanks GC! lol) ... should I go low maintenance or OTT?... well I decided on OTT. Poor Hermione is having a tough time putting up with Riddle. Sugar helps. Also, Lestrange... as awkward as you imagined? heh.**

**So this chapter set a few characters on paths I wanted to take them on. That being obviously, Hermione, Tom and Alex L.**

**I welcome all reviews (that are constructive... yes, this is a T/Hr fic - sorry if I'm bursting your bubble right now by revealing this - fancy that *rolls eyes*), and thank you for reading!**

**Cheers**

**Shan**


	9. Chapter 9

Hello all and welcome to Ch9! This is the longest chapter so far, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it…

Dedicating this chapter to my Gutter PALACE comrades! Thank you Serp and Nerys for happily (lol) reading my bit parts when I wasn't sure and needed a confidence boost, and Dream and Miya for listening to me whine about how I never have enough time for anything XD

Please note I have moved review acknowledgements to the bottom of the page : )

**Disclaimer:**This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

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><p><em>XXX<em>

"_Hey there darkness / hey there sunshine / hello not at all / hello all the time / hello nowhere / hello oblivion / hello goodbye" – Lupe Fiasco (Hello/Goodbye)_

_XXX  
><em>

Tom stared at Hermione who had abruptly stopped laughing at him and was now staring at him rather strangely.

"Something the matter?" He asked as he pushed himself off the door and stepped into the middle of the small room, crossing his arms.

He watched as she straightened herself and righted her robes. "No, nothing's wrong. Why would you ask that?" She asked, but Tom noted how she quickly averted her eyes before sliding them back towards him again.

Tom mentally scoffed at her evasiveness. For someone who seemed as annoyingly intelligent as she was, she was rather terrible at hiding her emotions, to him anyway – idealistic fools like Skeeter easily believed what she wanted them to believe.

"Right," he replied blandly, as he watched her.

She quickly turned to face him. "What? It's nothing," she insisted rather quickly, before looking down at her nails as if trying to appear casual.

Tom merely arched an eyebrow, and continued staring at her, hoping to unnerve her. _Of course she was lying._ He watched as she stood up much straighter, looking slightly miffed at his reaction, before gathering a certain nonchalant air around her.

"It's just that…" she paused, and he almost scowled when he saw a small smirk appear on her lips, "I was surprised that you ran away from that old lady." She stated in an airy manner so different from her usual tone.

Suddenly, whatever unease Tom thought he had initially seen in her disappeared and, much to his great annoyance was replaced with a smug look; as though she knew something he didn't. It made Tom want to hex her. If she had any idea what he was really capable of, she wouldn't act the way she did now! Instead of reacting, Tom merely eyed her.

"Why does that surprise you?" He finally asked.

He watched as she walked around to the small table and leaned back on it. "Well… not sure really. I just…" She paused and then shrugged her shoulders at him as if that was a good enough answer.

"You think I would actually enjoy spending my lunch break listening to her senile nonsense? Then, of course, she might follow me back to the shop – wouldn't be the first time that's happened." He explained, though he wasn't sure why exactly. All he knew was that he just wanted to wipe that 'know-it-all' smirk off her face.

"That popular are you?" She replied humorously whilst crossing her arms.

"No, it's just my idea of self-preservation… I'm trying to keep my sanity intact and all that." He replied whilst watching her; she looked as though she wanted to roll her eyes.

"Right, you were in Slytherin," She confirmed and a small smile ghosted her lips for a fraction of a second before it disappeared again. Tom didn't miss it though, and again felt as though she was in on a joke that no one else knew.

"Been studying the Hogwarts houses closely have you?" He asked.

Hermione looked at him and he would never admit to anyone that he was surprised to suddenly see a rare, genuine smile on her face. "Just because I didn't go to Hogwarts with any of you, doesn't mean that I don't know anything about the place… _Hogwarts, a History_ is one of my favourite books."

"If you enjoy the book so much, why didn't you ask your parents to go?" Tom asked curiously.

Hermione's jaw set and she sighed loudly. "It wasn't an option." She replied, looking down, and Tom could instantly tell that whilst there was some kind of underlying frustration on the topic, that seemed to be all she would say. _For the time being_, he thought, the need to know who exactly she was and why she was here arising to the forefront of his thoughts _again_.

Tom exhaled loudly and moved to lean against the same table as Hermione, pretending not to notice how she stiffened slightly in their close proximity. It seemed as though she was extremely uncomfortable with him breaking a certain 'personal boundary' with her. Whilst one part of him stored this away as an observation that he could potentially use against her, he couldn't ignore the other part of him which became somewhat aggravated. He was not used to women being unnerved by him and wondered why she, of all witches, was such a special case that his proximity seemed to cause such a negative reaction.

Tom looked around for a clock and his eyes fell upon an old brass contraption which showed he only had about 10 minutes left of his lunch break. "I wonder how long it will take Tarquin to get rid of her." He commented.

Hermione glanced at him and then quickly stood up. "I wonder if I can hear them through the door? I'll just go check…" She suddenly said, and Tom raised his eyebrows at her tone. He wondered if she was looking for a way to not be in such close proximity to him. The way she quickly scurried over to the door was answer enough to him. Tom watched her with a great deal of amusement; this witch was so painfully obvious, it would actually be fun for him to find ways in which to make her uncomfortable.

He observed as she leant with her ear pressed against the door; her eyebrows furrowing as she tried to hone in on whatever conversation was going on outside. For a few moments she was silent, until some kind of recognition dawned on her face; she could obviously hear them. She turned back to Tom, with a look of slight confusion on her face.

"They – well, _her_ for the most part – are talking about…" and she pressed her ear against the door as if to confirm what she thought she heard, "something called, er, _bungo_?"

Tom audibly groaned; the old bat was talking about her stupid pet cat Bungo. Tom couldn't count how often he had been subjected to listening to tales about the ancient beast who, despite its advanced years and multitude of health problems, just wouldn't die… which of course, meant more stories that Tom was subjected to whilst she had her month long reign of terror at Borgin and Burkes. In fact, the cat was rather like its hideous owner, he thought to himself – as it just _wouldn't _die. With someone as sickeningly polite as Skeeter, Tom knew that his chances of escaping without notice were very, very slim.

"Who or what is a Bungo?" Hermione asked him after noting his reaction, whilst still listening through the door.

"Is Skeeter even trying to get rid of her?" Tom asked, slightly irritated, completely ignoring Hermione's question.

"Well I'm trying to listen," She replied, sounding frustrated.

Tom rolled his eyes and quickly stood up and strode over to the door where, facing Hermione, he too leant against the door trying to work out the pace of the conversation. His frustrations were confirmed, when he deciphered the muffled voices: Mrs Bisley was well into her story about Bungo and Tarquin was simply making polite noises. He realised that Skeeter was probably the worst person to take on getting rid of that woman. He suddenly looked down when he heard an annoyed huff coming from below him; surely enough, Hermione stood there looking extremely expectant. Tom merely cocked an eyebrow at her, which caused her to narrow her eyes at him.

"Who or what is a Bungo?" She repeated her earlier question, watching him closely as he again invaded her personal space.

"It's her pet cat. I'm surprised she never mentioned it to you the other day," He commented as he stared back at her. Again, she appeared to be uncomfortable, and he wondered what was going through her mind as she had obviously thought she had gotten away from him before.

Instead of stepping backwards, like he expected her to, she remained standing where she was. "No, she was too busy talking about the history of Diagon Alley," she muttered in annoyance, whilst pushing some strands of errant hair out of her face.

Tom watched her fix her hair with amusement, causing her to scowl when she worked out what he was looking at. He noted that it seemed to get frizzier as she let her emotions get the better of her. He had never seen a witch with such hair, and had never seen hair react the way to magic that hers did. Tom thought it was highly amusing, but decided not to say anything… _yet_.

"Tarquin is never going to get rid of her," He decided to say instead. "I suppose, he's not exactly the kind of person who could get rid of her…" He then mused.

Her eyes darkened, "And _what _exactly do you mean by that?" She asked bossily.

Tom's eyebrows shot up in surprise. So, the little witch was protective of her Hufflepuff was she? Tom held his hands up, "I just meant that Tarquin is too nice to tell an old lady to go away – you can't deny that it isn't true." He replied easily.

She huffed, but he knew that she was accepting his response. "I suppose you have a point there," she replied as she put her ear against the door again trying to listen.

Tom listened too, and realised with mounting frustration that he had to go back to work soon. He looked around the small room in frustration; there was no back door exit, except for a set of stairs. Curiously, he wondered what was up the stairs.

"Where do the stairs go?" He asked, and could tell that she was surprised he had just changed tack like that.

"Nowhere important."

Tom eyed her disbelievingly. "Is there a way out via the stairs?" He asked.

"No, there's not."

"Are you sure? They could lead to anywhere…" He said, and went to walk towards the stairs.

Before he got a chance to walk away, he felt a small hand grip his forearm tightly before quickly falling away, as though burned. He turned and saw Hermione staring at him with wide eyes, as though she was surprised at her own actions, and didn't mean to grab him.

"Th-there's nothing up there, just my flat," She quickly said as she looked down at the hand she had just restrained him with.

Tom now realised why she reacted in the way she did. So, she was living above the shop whilst working there. Tom suddenly wondered out of curiosity what her flat looked like… and the fact that all of her project work would be up there.

"Oh?" He asked, acting completely unaffected by what had just happened. "And there is no way of escaping via your flat?"

"I think I would know if there was a way of escaping via my flat." Hermione muttered in annoyance.

"I have to get back to work soon," Tom commented, watching as she crossed her arms and leaned back against the door.

"Oh. I suppose you do…" She replied in a disinterested tone, which made Tom's jaw slightly tick at her impudence towards him. "How could you leave through the back anyway?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, your book is still out there," She smiled, much too pleased with her 'discovery', as if she was enjoying the idea of him having to go back out and face the old bat. "You'll have to get it before you leave."

Tom smirked at her, and enjoyed watching the smug look on her face slowly turn into one of confusion. "You think I would just leave Wenlock's book sitting around unattended in a book shop?" He asked incredulously.

"Well, I don't see your bag in here," She commented whilst gesturing towards him.

"Perhaps I thought so highly of your undetectable extension charm that I made my own version," Tom replied as he patted his robes. He watched with amusement as Hermione's face quickly dawned with realisation before flushing a deep shade of pink.

"I… I…"

But before Hermione could stutter whatever she was trying to say, Tom interrupted, "You should be flattered; such an ingenious way to use magic." He said smoothly and watched as her cheeks became even pinker.

"I didn't notice you get the book out before," was all she rather lamely replied with.

Tom didn't say anything, instead he enjoyed how flustered she became from his compliment, and watched as she looked anywhere around the room except for him. Tom noted that her hair, whilst unmanageable before, was now a bushy mess and was fluffing all over the place. He realised that she was far more affected by him – whether it was in a positive or negative way – than she put on. He could tell by her hair alone.

Hermione must have noticed what he was looking at and unconsciously moved her hand up to her hair, before quickly moving it back down and scowling.

"You might make it worse by getting more infuriated," Tom commented and watched as her narrowed even more.

"And _what _is that supposed to mean?" She hissed, "I do not need-"

But before she could continue her rant the door suddenly flew open, causing Hermione to fall forwards and trip over her own feet. Arms flailing, she looked like she was bracing to hit the ground as she squeezed her eyes shut for the inevitable. Tom would have laughed at the comical image before him, but thought of a better idea and quickly took a step towards her, causing her to land heavily into his chest instead.

"Ow!" She whimpered, as Tom quickly wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her so she didn't send them both toppling over.

He looked down at her and was instantly assaulted by her crazy hair fluffing into his face. He looked up again and smirked as Tarquin stood at the door with a wide-eyed expression.

"I wondered where you two had gone," Tarquin exclaimed as he watched Hermione trying to adjust her awkward stance in Tom's arms, "I was just going to say that Aunt Valeria has managed to get rid of Mrs Bisley; she took her out for a cup of tea." He explained whilst still staring at the two of them.

Tom felt Hermione wiggle in his arms, and he looked back down at her, she was looking up at him incredibly sheepishly – obviously mortified at the whole situation. It only made Tom's smirk turn into a full blown grin, which caused her to widen her eyes even more.

"I can stand now," She said quietly.

"Okay," He replied and she quickly stepped out of his embrace, "that's the second time I've saved you now," He said just as quietly.

She looked slightly confused, "Yes… ironic, isn't it?" she muttered more to herself than himself or Tarquin, causing Tom to furrow his eyebrows in confusion at what he interpreted as an insinuation. 

* * *

><p>Hermione was in a bad mood. Today was her birthday, she was still stuck in the past and she still hadn't finished Wenlock's book. It didn't help that she was still dreadfully embarrassed about falling into Tom Riddle's arms yesterday. Tarquin had kept giving her meaningful looks all afternoon and subsequent morning – as if waiting for her to give him some kind of 'big reveal'. <em>Well,<em> she huffed to herself, _there was absolutely nothing to 'reveal'_!

"Something the matter?"

Hermione looked up at Tom as he sat across from her. Of course, it didn't help that the source of all of her embarrassment was currently sitting across from her; having turned up like clockwork to read the book as though nothing had happened the day before. As though she hadn't fallen into his arms; making a complete fool of herself in the process.

"Hmmm?" She hummed at him, trying to hide the embarrassment and frustration she currently felt. The fact that he acted as though nothing even happened was even worse than teasing her. She wanted to demand why he had 'saved' her – yet again – as he had so eloquently put it. His 'nice' act was grating on her nerves. She knew he wasn't nice, and it was getting more frustrating by the day to have to sit and watch him act as though he was some kind of gentleman in front of her. Yet of course she would never dare to confront him; it was much too dangerous and would arouse too much suspicion on her behalf… _because he wasn't suspicious enough_, her mind snarkily reminded her.

"You just huffed." He explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh, did I?"

"Yes… something you just read bother you?" He asked whilst eyeing her closely.

"No, of course not." She replied shortly, and returned her attention to the book.

She tried concentrating on the book in front of her. It was fascinating, it truly was. But she felt completely unnerved at the moment. The fact that he picked up _every, little thing _she did made her feel as though she were coming undone at the seams. The fact that she was still here, not home, like she had planned made her realise the mistake she had made allowing Tom Riddle even an inch into her space.

She thought she'd merely be a flash in this time and yet, here she was, dealing with the darkest wizard who had ever lived on what felt like a daily basis. All of this might have been okay if she was merely a flash in time, but she had realised that she had captured his curiosity and had no idea how to fight or stop it. She knew she was playing with fire, and whilst Hermione's confidence in her skills outside of book smarts had grown exponentially as she matured into a young woman, she still knew she was no match for Voldemort – no matter how old he was.

Hermione quickly looked up at Tom who seemed to have his attention on the copy of the Daily Prophet he was currently reading. She watched as his eyebrows furrowed a little as he read – his eyes scanning the pages at an alarmingly quick rate. Being stuck in that room with him yesterday and then unfortunately being thrown into his arms (_again_) made her feel even more aware of how mesmerising he truly was. Hermione was never the one to gush about someone's looks – believing that people showed their true worth through their capabilities instead – but even she couldn't deny how attractive he was. It wasn't just his symmetrical features or dark hair either; it was the way he carried himself; so charming, so confident, so _unsuspecting_... His looks coupled with the knowledge he held was a destructive and deadly combination.

"Do I have something on my face?" He was suddenly looking at her, effectively pulling her from her thoughts with a knowing smirk on his face.

_Prat_, she thought and rolled her eyes. "What are you reading about?" She asked instead.

"Just the usual Daily Prophet rubbish… how they get away with half the stories they print, I'll never understand." He said with a hint of disdain.

"Who are they defaming this time?" Hermione asked, recalling her years of having to put up with articles from Rita Skeeter.

"Newton Scamander," Tom replied.

"What? What on earth are they saying?" Hermione asked, perplexed.

"Some nutter has come forward claiming that Scamander stole his research on magical beasts and his policy idea on the Werewolf Registry." Tom replied.

"That's ridiculous! Everyone _knows _that he is at the forefront of research on magical beasts!" Hermione screeched without thinking.

Tom's eyebrows shot up in surprise and he dropped the paper, holding his hands up in a mock-surrender. "I didn't write the article," He said as he looked at her with a teasing expression.

Hermione's cheeks reddened. "Sorry," She muttered, "I just really can't stand how the Prophet gives these fools the time of the day."

"And a whole page spread… sounds like a disgruntled former Ministry employee who worked under him." Tom commented as he re-scanned the article.

"Typical," Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes. "Honestly, haven't they got anything better to report on?"

"Obviously not." Tom replied.

"It's just despicable," Hermione replied hotly – allowing her temper on the matter to get the better of her, "The way that they just think they can report such rubbish! And what other source does the wizarding world have? At least in the muggle world newspapers are supposed to adhere to certain acts of decency and ethics, and there is usually more than one source where people can get their information if the newspaper is a tabloid!" Hermione's voice became more shrill as she became more outraged.

"Perhaps you should start your own paper then…"

Hermione quickly swivelled her head around, as it wasn't Tom who made the comment, and was surprised to see Alexander Lestrange leaning against a bookcase.

"Oh," Hermione started, embarrassed at having being caught mid-rant, "Hello Alex."

"Hello Hermione," He replied politely before turning and nodding his head curtly at Tom, "Riddle."

"Lestrange," Tom replied, and Hermione noted the lazy disinterest Tom regarded Lestrange with - she bet that it was done on purpose too.

_Could they be any less obvious in their animosity?_ Hermione thought as she eyed the pair of them.

"So… Hermione, how have you been?" Alex asked, turning his attention back to her.

"Fine thanks," Hermione replied and gave him a polite smile. "How are you?"

"I've been well," He replied with a small smirk on his face as he eyed her.

"That's good," Hermione replied, and gave him an expectant look, she was curious to know what he was doing here. She thought after he took her to ice cream that would probably be the last she would see of him.

"Okay, well… The reason I'm here is that Alphard – well, Alphard and I – were wondering whether-"

"Alex! Well isn't this just a nice little reunion!" Tarquin loudly interrupted as he rounded the corner. He looked between the three of them, noting Alex's stance at the interruption, "Oh, sorry! Was I interrupting something?"

"No, no, it's fine Tarquin," Alex quickly responded, "I was merely here seeing what Hermione was up to tonight – being a Friday night…"

Tarquin turned to Hermione and gave her an amused look, which caused her to flush. "Well its Hermione's birthday today," He announced proudly, looking at her with a grin.

Hermione wanted to groan loudly and let the ground swallow her up. She really didn't want either Tom or Alex to know that it was her birthday. Although, she reconciled with herself that she shouldn't have told Tarquin about it if she wanted to keep it absolutely secret.

"Happy birthday Hermione," Alex said with a smile.

"Thank you," Hermione replied genuinely.

"Yes, happy birthday Hermione," Tom said and Hermione turned to look at him and found he only looked as though he found the situation far too amusing, for her liking.

"Thank you," She replied and gave him a smile too – not wanting to appear hateful in front of Tarquin and Alex.

"Are you doing anything special for your birthday?" Alex suddenly piped up.

But before Hermione could say anything Tarquin spoke up, "I've planned a dinner for Hermione actually. Then we are going out to that new place _The Palace _in Diagon Alley for drinks and dancing." He announced.

"We are?" Hermione asked in surprise. He hadn't mentioned any of this to her, preferring to keep her out of the loop and drop annoying hints that she had no hope of ever guessing.

"Sorry Hermione, I know I've been annoyingly cryptic, but then I wasn't sure if you'd need to buy anything to wear – it's quite a fancy place," He turned and explained to her.

"Oh," Hermione replied. Well he had a point there; she hadn't bothered buying anything dressy since turning up here. The few outfits she had bothered getting were definitely not suitable to wear out.

"That's where Alphard and I were going tonight, I was actually going to see if Hermione would join me – ah, I mean us," Alex explained to Tarquin.

Hermione just wanted to die of embarrassment right then and there. She thought Alex had gotten the hint when she had mentioned Ron and made it clear that she did not see that trip to the ice cream shop as a date.

"Say! Why don't we _all _meet up? The more the merrier!" Tarquin said cheerfully.

Forget dying of embarrassment, Hermione decided that she really wanted to dismember Tarquin in a slow and painful manner.

"Tom, you could bring your friends too, that's if you've got nothing on?" Tarquin then enquired.

_Oh yes, Tarquin I will dismember you __**very**__ slowly_, Hermione thought maliciously as she eyed the boy in front of her – someone who she _had _thought was perfectly innocent. Well obviously, judging by the little glint in his eyes, he was _not _as innocent as she initially thought.

"Why, I don't have anything planned, that's very kind of you Tarquin. But only if it's okay with Hermione?" He said and turned to Hermione with an innocent expression on his face that made her want to strangle him.

She wondered if it was possible to dispose of both Tarquin Skeeter and Tom Riddle in the next five minutes without Alex noticing anything illegal was going on.

She smiled awkwardly, trying to cover up her absolute fury, "Why… no, I don't mind – why would I?"

Tom grinned at her, "Well then, if _Hermione_ is okay with it, I'm sure we can make an appearance."

"Great!" Tarquin exclaimed, not even picking up on the tension between Hermione and Tom, "Well it looks like we'll have a real party tonight!"

"Excellent," Alex replied, though Hermione thought he didn't sound as happy now that he knew that Tom was coming. "Well I must be off; I have some business to take care of… Hermione, I shall see you tonight," He smiled politely at her, nodded towards Tom and Tarquin and took his leave.

"Well," Tom began, looking at the both of them, "I have to get back to work."

"Alright, we'll see you tonight Tom," Tarquin replied, "I'll go check how Aunt Valeria is going up the front." He smiled and walked off.

Hermione sighed and closed the book and handed it back to Tom. He took it and put it in his robes, smirking when she realised he was still using her undetectable extension charm.

"You're almost finished reading it," He said as he stood up and adjusted his robes.

"Yes, I suppose I am," Hermione replied, not really sure what to say now that they were alone, "Um, thanks for letting me read it… again. It's been absolutely fascinating."

"Not a problem Hermione," He replied, "Well, I guess I'll see you later tonight." He smirked at her, before turning in a confident manner and walking out before she could say anything.

Hermione watched his tall form disappear from view before she leaned back on her chair and rubbed her temple tiredly.

"Hermione…"

She looked up and found Tarquin standing before her.

"I am not talking to you right now," She muttered in annoyance and looked away from him.

"Oh come on! It'll be fun! We're going to have a lovely dinner and then go out on the town!" He exclaimed happily.

Hermione rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue.

"Are you annoyed that I invited Tom and Alex… two blokes who seem to be both interested in you?" He cheekily grinned at her.

Hermione whipped he head around at him and glared. "Tom Riddle is _not _interested in me, Tarquin!" Hermione wanted to groan in frustration. She wished she could just tell Tarquin why his suggestion was such a bad one. But of course, she couldn't say anything about Riddle or Lestrange for that matter. She realised that perhaps she would just have to grin and bear the evening. Perhaps she could pretend to have a stomach ache and leave early.

"And what about Alex?" He then asked, interrupting her plans of escape.

"What _about_ Alex? I told him that I have a boyfriend. If he can't understand that I'm not interested then that's his own problem." Hermione huffed.

"So will Ronald be making an appearance then? You did say you would let him know in an owl," Tarquin asked.

"Well no… he, ah, couldn't make it," Hermione replied awkwardly and fiddled with a lock of hair.

"Really? He can't even come to your birthday? I know my word as a bloke doesn't mean much to a girl, but if you're going to get engaged this would've been the perfect opportunity to ask." Tarquin mused.

Hermione huffed. If she was back in her own time she most probably _would _be engaged by now. It already upset her enough that Ron and the rest of her friends and family couldn't be there for her, but to constantly have to lie about it hurt much more

"Cheer up Hermione; it's your birthday and who knows? Maybe he'll surprise you and show up. Plus, Aunt Valeria said you could have the afternoon to go shopping if you need to. _And_, I invited Minerva and she'll probably come around early anyway. Perhaps you can go shopping together?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Look I really appreciate you organising something for me, but _please _stop trying to make something out of people's attention which simply isn't there," She explained awkwardly.

"Darling, I tell things how I see it… if you continue to live in denial that's your own problem." He said as he held his hands up in mock innocence.

"Yes and I tell things how I _know _them, thank you very much!"

"Yes, but you don't _know _everything!"

Hermione thought it was lucky that Tarquin was quick on his feet, because he had already ran off and hid behind one the many bookshelves laughing by the time she had pulled her wand out. 

* * *

><p>"Thanks for coming shopping with me," Hermione said to Minerva as they weaved their way through the usual crowds in Diagon Alley.<p>

"Not a worry. When Tarquin invited me to your birthday, I thought I would just come into London early. I have to run a couple of other errands too, if that's alright?" Minerva asked.

"No, that's fine. I suspect we'll be in and out of the shops pretty quickly. I just need to find a dress that isn't too expensive," Hermione explained.

"Oh, I actually know a good place!" Minerva said.

"Good, the less I have to look around Diagon Alley, the better. Honestly, this birthday is becoming more hassle than it is actually worth. I just wanted something small and now we are stuck going out dancing!" Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"You shouldn't have trusted Tarquin… actually_ I_ should have warned you. I broke up a number of after hour parties that he had organised back in school." She said with a grin on her face.

"Why am I not surprised?" Hermione muttered. "Oh, but I should warn you that Alphard will probably be there tonight."

Minerva turned and looked at her with wide eyes. "Alphard? What do you mean?" She asked, sounding immediately worried, at the idea.

Hermione explained how Alex had come into the shop and asked what she would be up to that evening and how Tarquin had proceeded to invite him and Tom Riddle to come to _The Palace_ with them.

"That bloody sneaky Slytherin!" Minerva exclaimed at the end of Hermione's story.

"Who?" Hermione asked, wondering which Slytherin she was blustering about – there were a couple to choose from, after all.

"Alphard, of course!" She ranted. "He's been owling me non-stop since we saw him that time in the Leaky Cauldron. I finally relented and began owling him back and I mentioned you in a few letters – and your upcoming birthday…"

"So, you're suggesting he knew and then planned all of this?" Hermione asked in surprise. "But does Alex know you are together? Does that mean he's in on it too?"

Minerva shook her head. "No, as far as I'm aware Alex has no idea about us… which only means one thing…" She looked at Hermione and her expression went from anger to amusement.

"What? What does it mean?" Hermione asked.

"Alphard obviously knows Alex likes you and has manipulated the situation to suit himself… Oh, I knew he was sneaky but honestly… he's actually put a lot of thought into things for once!"

"You cannot be serious," Hermione responded in disbelief.

"Oh I'm dead serious," Minerva replied. "He knows what Tarquin is like too… Oh this just gets better and better. Wait until I get my hands on him tonight!

"But what's the point of Alphard doing this if no one knows that you're together?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Who knows? But lately he's been acting strangely; maybe because we rarely see each other."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "But you won't be able to do anything whilst there are people all around you…" Hermione then said.

Minerva's face flushed to an incredible pink. "That's never stopped Alphard before, he can be quite creative when he wants to be…" She trailed off, obviously embarrassed about even mentioning it.

Hermione tried to hold her laugh in. The fact that she was currently talking to one of her old school professors about her love life was just… well, for once in her life Hermione was finding it difficult to find a suitable word. She giggled and Minerva rolled her eyes.

"What are you laughing about?" She asked, obviously still embarrassed.

"Oh, you know, just… _boys_ and how ridiculous this all is." Hermione answered with a smirk on her face.

Minerva's embarrassment slowly ebbed away and she laughed shortly. "Yes, I do suppose you are right," She stopped and motioned for Hermione to follow her, "Come on, we're here, let's find you a dress shall we?"

* * *

><p>Hermione stood in front of her small bathroom mirror trying to work her hair into a somewhat acceptable up-do. She had actually remembered to buy some bobby pins and was currently working them into holding up a rather dubious looking bun. Right when she had gotten the last bobby pin in, a massive lock of hair fell out of her bun, causing the rest of her hair to tumble out. Hermione swore in frustration.<p>

"What on earth are you trying to do?" Minerva asked as she popped her head into the bathroom and looked curiously at Hermione's now ruined hair.

"My stupid bloody hair won't do what I tell it to do!" Hermione huffed.

"Well, I could help if you want?" Minerva offered.

"Really? You would know what to do with this mess?" Hermione turned around and pointed to her head.

"Well, it's all about working and enhancing what you already have – instead you're trying to work against your hair," Minerva lectured as she pulled out her wand and turned Hermione back around to face the mirror. "You have natural curly hair; we can really work with this." She continued, as she magically removed all the bobby pins and ribbon Hermione had already put in her hair.

"Good luck," Hermione muttered sarcastically.

Minerva didn't respond and concentrated on getting the tangles out of Hermione's hair. She then waved her wand silently and Hermione watched in amazement as her hair began de-frizzing and calming down. Minerva then summoned some sort of hair pomade and lightly dabbed it throughout Hermione's hair, causing it to stay in place. She swept Hermione's hair into a side part and then transfigured two bobby pins into red jewelled clips, securing them into her hair to hold it back off her face.

Hermione looked into the mirror in shock. Yes, her hair was still a mass of curls, but it had lost the tangled look she so unfortunately suffered from on a frequent basis. Hermione still felt like herself, if not a bit dressier. She noted that the transfigured clips in her hair glimmered in the lights and secured her hair nicely. Hermione smiled.

"There! It's still you," Minerva commented as she admired her handy work.

"Thank you, I really need to get that spell off you," Hermione replied gratefully.

"Eh, it's easy... I was in a dorm with a girl whose hair was much curlier than yours – believe it or not." She smiled. "Plus the clips match the red dress!" She added.

Hermione grinned and looked down at the dress; it fell just below her knees and nipped in dramatically at her waist. Despite this, Hermione felt exceptionally comfortable in it – it fit so perfectly. The neckline, whilst lower cut for the evening, was still much more demure than anything she was used to wearing in her own time. She had already decided she was going to transfigure her normal heels and beaded bag to match her dress. Hermione, whilst not someone normally so preoccupied with fashion, decided to simply enjoy the moment for what it was. It had been such a long time since she had dressed up for anything, even before getting stuck in this time. She couldn't actually remember the last time she _had _dressed up.

"You look lovely, fit enough for a birthday party, I'd say!" Minerva said and Hermione laughed at the compliment.

"Thanks, you look lovely as well," She complimented. Minerva was wearing a blue halter necked dress, similar length to Hermione's dress, with a cap sleeved black bolero over it. Both girls had kept their make-up simple, with a bit of blush, mascara and lip stick all they needed.

"Well, let's get a move on then," Minerva said and the two girls pulled their coats on and left the flat.

"Do you have any idea where we are going for dinner?" Hermione asked as they made their way down the stairs.

"Actually that's the one thing Tarquin didn't tell me. I already knew about the idea of going to the palace for dancing – hence Alphard's scheming," Minerva rolled her eyes, "though this dinner is a mystery." She explained as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Ladies! Well, you are both looking lovely tonight I must say!" Tarquin exclaimed as he stood waiting for them in the office. "If you'll allow me to take your coats, please." He asked and held out his arm.

"Oh. Are we apparating somewhere?" Minerva asked curiously.

"No, but I think you'll be pleasantly surprised," He grinned cheekily. Hermione noted how handsome he looked dressed in a suit; she thought it was a pity the girl he liked was in another relationship.

Both girls took off their coats and Tarquin sat them on the desk. He then opened the door and Hermione couldn't stop the gasp of amazement as she looked around the stop. It had been entirely transformed. The book shelves had disappeared and in the middle of the shop was a dining table which sat around six people. The store was lit with a number of floating candles, creating a soft light to the atmosphere.

"H-how did you manage to do this?" Hermione asked and spun around to Tarquin who was leaning against the door watching her reaction in amusement.

"Well, Professor Dumbledore is apparently a pretty good wizard," He replied with good humour.

"Don't give me all the credit Mr Skeeter, you were marvellous in assisting me," Professor Dumbledore said as he stepped out from nowhere.

Tarquin blushed slightly. "I merely followed your directions Professor," He replied humbly.

"Never underestimate what you can do; you're a very competent wizard." Dumbledore replied seriously and then turned to Hermione with a friendly smile on his face. "Happy birthday Hermione! I must say when Mr Skeeter owled me, I couldn't refuse the opportunity to celebrate," He said and handed a box of chocolates with a beautiful ribbon wrapped around them.

"Th-thank you Professor," Hermione replied, still stunned, "Thank you for coming – I wasn't expecting this at all."

"My pleasure… and when I heard Valeria would be cooking, I had to RSVP straight away," He chuckled.

Hermione quickly spun around and looked at Tarquin, "Thank you Tarquin, you really didn't have to go to all this trouble."

"Nonsense, it's your birthday!"

"And what's a birthday without great food or drink?" said a recognisable voice from the front of the store. All turned and saw Valeria entering with a large picnic basket. "Happy Birthday Hermione!" She said happily, "Now you know where I've been all day!"

"Thank you," Hermione replied gratefully.

"Did you make Yorkshire puddings?" Tarquin asked as he quickly walked to take the picnic basket from her and sneak a peek.

"Tarquin Skeeter! Get your nose out of there!" Valeria admonished. "Yes, of course I made Yorkshire puddings! Now everyone, sit down and make yourselves comfortable."

"She makes the best Yorkshire puddings," Tarquin commented to Hermione as they made their way to the dining table and sat down.

Valeria sat the picnic basket down and waved her wand. Suddenly all the food moved out of the basket and onto the table. Pork roast, various steamed and roasted vegetables, the Yorkshire puddings, several bottles of champagne and a delicious looking chocolate birthday cake all settled on the table.

Tarquin quickly poured everyone a glass of champagne and held his glass up, "Happy birthday Hermione, here's to new friends and great food!"

Hermione grinned and quickly stood up. "Thank you everyone, really, I couldn't even ask for such a beautiful dinner. Let's have a fun night – cheers!"

Everyone laughed and clinked their glasses, "Cheers!" they all echoed.

* * *

><p>"How strong was that champagne Tarquin?" Minerva asked in a suspicious manner as they left the shop and wrapped their coats around them.<p>

"Who knows? Aunt Valeria has quite the cellar… I used to raid it for sc-" Tarquin began to say but then quickly cut himself off and looked pointedly at Minerva.

"Oh give it a rest Tarquin, I'm not head girl anymore – you're not a student, and I knew about your parties anyway, considering I spent many Friday and Saturday nights breaking them up!" Minerva announced.

Hermione laughed at the two of them, the champagne had slightly gone to her head. She was pretty sure that either Tarquin or one of the others had been continuously topping up her glass all night; because Hermione didn't remember ever filling it up herself. In fact, she was trying to be careful about how much she drank considering who she would be seeing later on in the evening. None-the-less, she was now feeling decidedly bright eyed and light headed.

"All I know is that I better not drink much more," Minerva announced as they walked down the streets.

"Where is this place?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, it's next to that café – just up the road here," Tarquin replied.

"I'm curious to see how they fit a dance club there…" Hermione wondered out loud

"Oh it's upstairs, and they've charmed it to make it bigger of course." Tarquin explained.

"How wonderful, I can't wait to see it." Hermione said.

The other two agreed, and as they got closer to their destination they could hear the faint sounds of music coming from the building. Hermione listened to it and noted how different it was to the club music of her time. There was no throbbing bass or electronica, instead it sounded like an actual real life band was playing. Hermione wasn't massively into clubbing in her own time, but when she did go out she liked to have a good time. What a pity she would have to put up with both Riddle and Lestrange – for equally different reasons of course. Riddle's curiosity surrounding who she was and her project was becoming increasingly obvious; whilst Lestrange's possible romantic interest was completely unwanted.

She reasoned that she could always leave early if they got too annoying, by either feigning a stomach ache or too much alcohol. She really hoped it didn't come to that though. She had decided that she didn't want her night ruined – it was her birthday after all, and Tarquin had gone to so much effort to make sure she'd have a great time.

They entered the front door and went up the rather ordinary stairwell that led to the club. Leaving their coats with a witch in a small cloak room at the entrance, they walked through the doors. Hermione was awestruck; this place looked, well, like _a palace_. It was busy too, she noted, as she looked around, it was going to be difficult to get a seat or lounge for that matter.

"We might have to wait a bit for a seat," Tarquin commented, "Let's just go get a drink and have a look around."

Hermione and Minerva both nodded and followed him to the bar. Hermione couldn't help but admire the priceless looking chandeliers lining the ceilings, adding a warm glow to the club. The gold and royal blue hues added a nice touch with comfortable looking lounges and tables surrounding a rather large dance floor. A small band energetically played in front of the dance floor however Hermione found that unlike clubs in her own time, she could still hear the people around her. The music was great, but it didn't overpower the atmosphere.

They finally made it to the bar and a bartender quickly flicked a menu to all three of them. They perused the menu and the girls decided on another glass of champagne whilst Tarquin said he was going to have a glass of firewhiskey. However, before they were about to order, Hermione felt a tap on her shoulder. Quickly turning around, she found herself face-to-face with Alex.

"Oh! Hello Alex!" She greeted, and noted that both Minerva and Tarquin turned around at her greeting.

"Hermione, I thought it was you. You look absolutely stunning." He complimented her, causing her cheeks to heat up in embarrassment. He then turned to Tarquin and Minerva, "Ah hello Skeeter and Minerva – it's been a while." He greeted rather stiffly.

Hermione couldn't help but frown slightly at his awkward greeting. Was it because Minerva was a muggleborn?

"Ah, Alex, yes it has been a while. You don't seem to have changed a bit." Minerva replied politely. Hermione wondered whether there was anything underlying in her comments.

"Yes, I suppose so," He replied. "I've come down to invite you all to our table upstairs." He offered.

"Oh, are you sure? We wouldn't want to interrupt," Hermione replied.

"Nonsense. Anyway, aren't we celebrating your birthday?"

"Yes, I guess we are," Hermione replied before turning to the others, "Is that okay with you both?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Tarquin asked incredulously. "Of course we want to!"

"Well I guess that settles it then," Alex said and held his arm out to Hermione. "May I escort the birthday girl?"

Hermione felt incredibly uncomfortable. Alex of course looked exceedingly handsome, but she already felt like her worst fears for the night were coming true. However, she pasted a small smile on her face and acquiesced, despite noting the small look of worry sent to her by Minerva, and linked her arm with his.

They headed upstairs and if Hermione thought that the downstairs was opulent, she realised it had nothing on what was obviously the "VIP" area. The lighting was much softer upstairs, and the area was filled with private booths which looked to be able to expand – depending on the number of people sitting at them.

Lestrange led them to a table which was at the far end of the room. Hermione immediately recognised Alphard, and almost smirked as she noted how his attention was immediately drawn to Minerva, his eyes raking over her dress in a surreptitious manner. She turned to look at Minerva and almost wanted to laugh at her expression: one of haughty annoyance. Minerva was still obviously irritated at Alphard for his scheming ways in getting them to come here tonight.

Hermione then watched as Alphard got a look of confusion on his face before what looked like disappointment. She secretly thought it served him right. Because of him she was getting even more unwanted attention from Alex and then there was the domino effect of Riddle coming along tonight – possibly with his little gang.

They finally arrived at the table and Hermione noticed a third person there. She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach as she took in the extremely familiar features of this person and suddenly wanted to quickly walk the other way – _far, far away_.

"Hermione, this is our friend Abraxas Malfoy," Alex introduced her to their blonde haired companion.

As her sneaking suspicion became a reality, Hermione couldn't believe she was meeting the grandfather of Draco Malfoy. As she looked closer at the young man in front of her, she realised that the similarities between Draco and his grandfather ended with their trademark white blonde hair. Whilst Draco had narrow and pointed ferret-like features, Abraxas' features were much broader and whilst he wasn't a big man, he wasn't as weedy looking as his grandson. Hermione had to grudgingly admit that he was actually quite handsome if you liked the blonde, athletic looking types.

"It's a pleasure, Ms Hermione _Edwards _was it?" Abraxas asked, whilst standing up and shaking her hand.

"Yes, that's correct. A pleasure to meet you Mr Malfoy," Hermione replied politely.

"Oh, please call me Abraxas. We are, after all, in the company of friends." He replied and gave her a small Malfoy worthy smirk.

"Okay… Abraxas," Hermione corrected. "You can call me Hermione then." She added in return.

"So! What's the birthday girl drinking tonight then?" Alphard interrupted cheerfully.

"Oh, well we were going to get our drinks when Alex found us. If you give us a moment we'll just go and get our drinks and be right back." Hermione explained.

Alex raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Nonsense, it's your birthday, have a seat and we'll get some drinks brought over on us."

"Oh no-" Hermione began to protest.

"Hermione, we _insist_," Alphard spoke over her quickly.

"How about we do a round each – except for the ladies that is," Tarquin suddenly spoke up. "Ladies should never pay for their drinks on a night out."

Hermione was about to protest about how sexist that was and that she was perfectly capable of paying for her own drinks until Alex spoke.

"Hermione, can you consider it as your birthday present from us?" He asked with a cajoling tone to his voice.

"Come on Hermione, be a good sport!" Tarquin added with puppy dog eyes.

"Oh, fine!" Hermione relented – much too easily in her own opinion. But it was easier than listening to their whining all night. She tried to reason that they were only trying to be chivalrous and that she was not sending the women's movement backwards by accepting a few drinks from them.

They all sat down as Alphard waved over a waitress who took their orders. Minerva and Hermione decided to stick with champagne whilst the others all chose firewhiskey. Hermione almost groaned in annoyance as she realised she was now squished into a booth with Alex on one side and Minerva on the other who seemed quite satisfied in shooting Alphard death glares any time he tried to make eye contact with her.

She was relieved when the champagne magically appeared on their table and didn't object when Alex poured her a drink. Abraxas, seated on the other side of Alex, began to ask Hermione questions about her stay so far in London as well as polite questions about her upbringing. Despite how much she had had to drink, she still managed to carefully reiterate the story she had told to many others – including the fact that she was only in London for academic purposes.

In turn she prompted Abraxas to speak about himself and observed in amazement how polite a Malfoy could be when they weren't aware of blood status, although he was still disgustingly arrogant. She observed the rest of the table and noted how Alphard and Tarquin had finally managed to rope Minerva into a conversation and they seemed happy enough, even eliciting a laugh from Minerva every now and again.

Hermione wondered when Riddle would show up – not that she _cared _about actually seeing him – it just seemed like the anticipation of him coming made her feel on edge compared to if he was just sitting across from her being annoying.

"Hermione, do you need to go to the bathroom?" Minerva suddenly piped up from beside her.

Hermione looked at the girl next her, "Um n-" She began, about to decline.

"Yes, that's what I thought. Come on now, let's go," She ordered and grabbed Hermione's arm to pull her away.

Hermione glanced at the men at the table but before she could say anything Minerva lead her by the hand towards a small hallway with a bathroom sign on it. When they finally arrived in the toilets Minerva locked the door and groaned loudly.

"That bloody, sneaky arse doesn't even think he's done anything wrong!" She started ranting as she walked over to the mirror to check her reflection.

"Well of course he doesn't Minerva, it all worked into his hands didn't it?" Hermione responded dryly.

"Yes of course! Using you as a pawn… Wait a second! That's what I was actually going to ask you… is Alex aware that you're muggleborn?"

Hermione stiffened and looked at her own reflection in the mirror. "Well…"

"Oh I should have known!" Minerva quickly interrupted. "Do you know how dangerous this is? You do know how bigoted they are don't you? The only reason that they tolerate me is because when I was head girl Alphard told them it would make his job much easier if they let me be. It also helps that I've hexed them in the past so they know they can't get away causing trouble."

"What does it matter if he does?" Hermione replied hotly. "I don't owe him any explanations about my heritage!"

"Because he obviously _really _likes you Hermione… You'd have to be blind not to see it! He hasn't been able to stop looking at you since you showed up!"

"Well that's his problem, isn't it? I've already told him that I have a boyfriend," Hermione replied. "Anyway, what am I supposed to do? Walk around with a 'muggleborn' badge on? It's not like he's asked me outright what my heritage is!"

"Well don't say I didn't warn you…" Minerva replied in a warning tone.

Hermione decided to ignore her last comment and put the focus back on her. "Enough about me… what are you going to do about Alphard?"

"No idea… I just needed to move away from the table and let some frustration out. He can be such a git, but it's so difficult staying angry at him." She sighed.

Hermione chuckled, she could relate to that. Ron continuously drove her up the wall with his antics though she often found it was too difficult staying angry at him for long periods of time.

"Well I'm going back to the table – now that I've let some steam off." Minerva replied.

"Okay, well I'm just going to use the bathroom and I'll be right with you." Hermione replied.

Minerva said her goodbyes and left Hermione to it. She went and used the bathroom, double checked her hair and make-up - satisfied that it was still sticking, freshened up and then left to head back to the table herself. As she walked down the hall she stopped in her tracks at the sight of Minerva and Alphard talking very closely in the hallway. She rolled her eyes; he must have been waiting for her to come out of the bathroom. _Honestly, those two are impossible_, she thought. She watched as Alphard leaned down and pressed a light kiss on Minerva's cheek before saying something. She was standing too far away to hear their conversation but by the looks of it, whatever he had said had caused her to blush immensely. Hermione wondered if she should stay standing there or try and walk past them without being noticed – either way she still felt awkward standing in the hall like that.

"Are those two _still _together?"

Hermione almost screeched at the familiar voice coming from so closely behind her. She quickly spun around to face one sneaky future Dark Lord.

"Must you _always _sneak up on me?" Hermione asked hotly, trying to hide her embarrassment of screeching so ridiculously.

Tom looked down at her with a smirk. "Why not? It's much more fun," he commented lightly.

Hermione scowled at him. "It's very rude" she admonished, though her comment came across as half hearted. By now she had unfortunately had the chance to take him in and not even she could deny how handsome he looked in that moment. Whilst he was always wearing a suit for work, this one was much more formal, and Hermione found herself unable to look away from him. It probably didn't help that he was standing ridiculously close to her – _yet again_ – invading her space as well as her senses. _Bloody hell! Why must he be so handsome?_ Hermione thought crankily. Again, she bemoaned the fact that it just wasn't fair that someone like him could be so attractive.

"Yes Hermione?" He asked, raising an elegant eyebrow – as if he knew how his looks were currently affecting her.

Hermione huffed in annoyance. "Nothing…"

"Really?" His smirk turned into a grin which was getting wider and wider as the seconds wore on.

"Well actually," She began to say, "How do _you _know about Minerva and Alphard?" She asked bossily.

Tom grinned and then rolled his eyes. "I turned up for a prefect meeting early one day and had the unfortunate experience of hearing them getting rather amorous with one another. Trust me when I say it made me re-think how important being punctual actually is." Tom replied, though his grin didn't go away.

Hermione pursed her lips. She highly doubted that he simply "stumbled upon" them by accident. No, she suspected that Mr 'I-Need-To-Know-Everything-About-Everyone' was probably watching their body language towards one-another for ages and then put it upon himself to find out what their relationship was. He then no doubt stored the information away as something he could use against them in the future.

"Don't get too angry Hermione, it will only ruin your hair," He commented lightly as he looked at it.

Hermione self-consciously brought a hand to her head. Luckily it still felt fine. It annoyed her to think that he already knew that her mood could often be told by how her hair was sitting.

"What very kind advice," She responded sarcastically.

"Well it does look quite nice… though, I personally like being able to tell when you get angry – what a shame whatever spell has been cast on it stops that," He replied in faux disappointment.

"What exactly do you mean by that?" Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

His eyes flashed as he took her in, "Only that sometimes you are far too _transparent _for your own good," He responded casually as he looked her over.

Hermione stiffened. She had seen the glint that passed through his eyes – for some reason it felt like he was playing a game with her. The teasing atmosphere from their banter disappeared and she felt her breath catch in her throat as she looked at him.

He turned away from her and looked towards where Minerva and Alphard had been standing. "Oh look, the two love birds have gone, looks like we can go back to the table now." He said so casually, as if nothing had just passed between them.

Hermione let out the breath she was holding, nodded her acquiesce and followed him back to their table. She noted that Dolohov and Rosier were the only ones in Riddle's gang who seemed to be there. Minerva and Alphard were sitting apart, though Minerva was sitting closely with Tarquin and looked to be very uncomfortable with the group of purebloods she was currently sitting with.

As they walked back to the table all eyes were suddenly on them and Hermione immediately tried to ignore the rather intense look on Alex's face. Tom merely smirked and much to Hermione's fury stepped a little closer to her as they reached the table, causing Alex's eyes to narrow even more. Hermione's seat next to Alex had since been taken by Dolohov who appeared to be discussing something with Malfoy. Malfoy was still chatting with Dolohov though Hermione noted the suspicious glances he was discreetly shooting between her and Tom.

"Ah! There's the birthday girl!" Tarquin exclaimed. "Good job on finding her Tom!"

"Well we can't have the birthday girl go missing," Tom replied as the booth magically expanded again and they both sat down, with Hermione ending up stuck between Rosier and Riddle.

Both Dolohov and Rosier wished her a happy birthday whilst Alex poured her another wine and sent it down to her. She couldn't help but take a large sip, considering the fact that she was sandwiched between Voldemort and one of his death eaters.

"Steady on, Hermione," Tom murmured, "You don't want to get drunk."

Hermione eyed him suspiciously, his tone was very dubious. She had to remind herself that Alex poured the drink – not Tom.

"I have no intention of getting drunk," she replied haughtily.

"Okay." He replied in a disbelieving tone, causing Hermione to roll her eyes and take another sip. "So why didn't your boyfriend show up?" He asked suddenly.

Hermione stiffened and felt her cheeks heat up in annoyance. "He's… working." She answered.

"What does he do?" Tom then asked.

Without even thinking Hermione stated the first thing that came to mind. "He works with dragons in eastern Europe." She replied blearily, wondering if she recalled enough of Charlie's stories to pass this off as being believable. She then wondered if it was such a good idea to say it in the first place, but figured it was better than nothing.

"Oh." Tom replied simply.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "What? No questions? I'm shocked! You are normally so full of them." She commented dryly and took another swig of wine. She looked down and realised her wine glass was suddenly empty… well she drunk that faster than what she was meant to. She frowned down at the glass, as if willing it to fill up again.

"Why, you assume too much Hermione." She heard Tom say, but she ignored that. Her wine glass was empty and she wanted a refill. She was about to answer him when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up and saw Alex standing there.

"Care to dance?" He asked.

Hermione didn't really want to dance – she wanted more wine – but she shrugged her shoulders and nodded anyway, feeling slightly light headed. Alex smirked and took her hand, leading her up to the private dance floor.

When they were finally on the dance floor Alex led them around to some music Hermione had never heard before. She found she had to crane her neck to look up at him; he was pretty much the same height as Riddle.

"So are you having a fun birthday?" He asked.

Hermione craned her neck to look up at him, "Yes it's been good. Though I miss my family," She replied honestly.

"Understandable," He replied. "It's a shame your boyfriend couldn't come." He added and studied her.

Hermione felt her cheeks flush at his close attention.

"What I mean to say is… ah, he shouldn't have missed your birthday."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Are you saying that it's wrong of him to do so?"

Alex cleared his throat. "Well… yes…" He then seemed look resolute on something, "You should never miss the birthday of your significant other."

"Well sometimes these things can't be helped," Hermione huffed.

Alex, noting her scowl, suddenly smirked. "Though it does mean one thing…" He trailed off.

"What's that?" Hermione asked.

"I get to dance with the pretty birthday girl without worrying about getting hexed by her boyfriend." He replied and then laughed at Hermione's expression.

Hermione gaped and he laughed harder at her expression. She was blushing furiously now and hoping that the dance floor would suddenly swallow her up whole. She wasn't used to all this complimenting, it made her feel uncomfortable.

They continued dancing and chatting about random topics that didn't really mean much to Hermione. She was still feeling quite light headed and felt like all of the wine she had drunk both at dinner and in the club had finally caught her. She found herself laughing a lot at things Alex said and judging by his expression at times, she wasn't exactly sure if she was supposed to find some of the things funny.

She was laughing at some story he was telling about a trip to France when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around, she saw Minerva standing there.

"Sorry to interrupt," She began looking at both Hermione and Alex. "I was just going to let you know that I've got to head off."

Hermione became instantly disappointed. "Oh no, why?" She asked, frowning.

"I've got an early morning tomorrow and need to get back to Hogwarts," She replied.

"Oh, well thank you for coming! Do you want me to walk you to the floo?"

"No, that's alright, there's a floo downstairs in the club – I'll just use that." She replied.

Both girls hugged and said their goodbyes. Hermione watched as Minerva walked down the stairs of the ViP area and go out of sight. She also noted that Alphard was no longer at the table. She wondered if he had left to say goodbye to Minerva in a more _private _capacity. For some reason – well perhaps it was the wine – the thought made her giggle stupidly.

"What's so funny?" Alex asked.

"Oh, nothing… I think the wine was a bit strong," She replied.

"How much have you had to drink?" He asked, though she noted the expression on his face meant that he didn't seem too concerned.

"Hmmm… not really sure… they kept filling my drink up at dinner so I've lost track," She replied and laughed at his amused expression. She looked over at the table, "Oh look, it's Smith." She observed rather loudly. "What's he doing here?"

She watched as Alex narrowed his eyes at the blonde who had a very attractive girl with him and was currently awkwardly talking with Tarquin, who seemed more focused on the girl than him.

"Not sure - he's certainly not welcome, the cheat." Alex replied disdainfully.

"Who is that girl with him?"

"Oh, that's his little girlfriend… Melanie den Boer."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Merlins pants!"

"What?" Alex quickly asked.

"Oh I really shouldn't say…"

"Skeeter obviously likes her… if that's what you are insinuating. I can see it from here." Alex observed and then smirked down at Hermione.

"Okay, okay, you're right; though you didn't hear _anything _from me!"

Alex snickered and they both watched as Smith and the girl she know knew as Melanie take their leave. She couldn't really see Melanie that well, but could tell that she was tall with blonde hair. Tarquin's eyes dreamily followed Melanie until they were finally out of sight.

Continuing to dance, they had a bit of a laugh about Tarquin's obvious attraction to the girl. Although she was also slightly wary as Alex seemed to take the joking around as flirting and she had to constantly find subtle ways to not be pulled too closely into his embrace. Hermione suddenly felt another tap on her shoulder and found Tarquin standing there with a big, stupid grin on his face.

"Mind if I dance with the birthday girl?"

Alex looked slightly disappointed but nodded anyway. Hermione had to admit she was slightly relieved. At least she knew that Tarquin wouldn't try to flirt or stand too closely too her. As soon as they were dancing Tarquin allowed his big-grin to widen.

"So, how's _Melanie_?" Hermione asked with a teasing smirk.

"You saw all of that then?" He asked.

"Er, it was hard to miss." Hermione replied bluntly.

"Right." He nodded.

"You didn't say she was with _Smith_!" She said.

Tarquin sighed. "It doesn't matter anyway."

"Why is she with such a prat?" Hermione asked.

"Who knows…? They've been together since fifth year. Maybe she's been with him for so long now that she feels obliged to eventually marry him or something." He replied and Hermione noted how glum he sounded now.

"Oh Tarquin," Hermione sighed in sympathy.

"It's alright…"

"How long have you liked her?" Hermione asked.

"Since fifth year. I was going to ask her out but was beaten to it. Before I knew it we had all finished and left school and they're still together." He replied.

Hermione sighed sadly; it was simply unfair. She was curious to meet this girl now to find out what it was that Tarquin loved so much to keep him interested in all these years.

They continued dancing for some time but Hermione had noted the shifted mood now that they had spoken about Melanie.

"I'm just going to head to the bathroom, meet you back at the table?" Hermione asked.

Tarquin nodded and Hermione left the dance floor and headed off to the ladies room. As she was returning and down the hall she spotted Alex and Malfoy talking quite heatedly. They were so consumed in their discussion that they didn't see her approach

"- nothing about **who** she is, and she hangs around with mudbloods like McGonagall and Riddle – who is trying to make her mark on her too," Hermione heard Malfoy hiss at Alex.

"She's not _with _Riddle and I doubt she's a mudblood. Dolohov told me she was home schooled by her parents and she's an extremely competent witch. She talks to McGonagall because she's on a project with Dumbledore." Alex replied.

"Will you listen to yourself? Are you that hard-up for witches that you're pursuing one you know nothing about?" Malfoy retorted.

Hermione clenched her fists in anger. How _dare_ they judge or speak about her in such a manner? Calmly, she began walking and approached the pair. Alex saw her first and with one look she knew that he realised she must have overheard what had been said. She noted that Malfoy's expression was blank, but he was watching her intently.

"If you'll excuse me, I think I'll be going. Obviously my company isn't up to your bigoted standards." She sneered as she walked past the two of them.

"Hermione, wait!" Alex called after her. "It's not what you-"

"I really don't care what you have to say or think!" Hermione quickly cut across him. "I'm not interested in your weak justifications! And I won't listen to anyone be belittled because of their parentage!"

And with that, Hermione stormed off, not listening to Alex's calls. She shouldn't have been surprised at their conversation really, but it didn't mean that it made her any less angry. She stormed over to the table and noted Tarquin wasn't there. She didn't look at any of the other boys as she quickly turned to Alphard.

"Can you tell Tarquin that I've gone home and will speak to him tomorrow?" She asked Alphard as he looked up at her in confusion.

"What's the matter? What happened?" Alphard asked, looking concerned.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Why don't you ask your friends?" She sniped before storming off again, not even looking backwards.

* * *

><p>Hermione furiously trudged back down Diagon Alley towards her flat. <em>How dare those stupid purebloods talk about <em>_**her **__as if she was some kind of sport? _Well, Malfoy could sleep well at night now, knowing that she'd _never _go for his precious friend anyway! Honestly, how many times did she have to tell Alex that she already had a boyfriend? What part of it didn't he understand?

"_Stupid, stuck up, no good Slytherins!" _She muttered and furiously kicked a random pebble out of her path as she continued her tirade down the street, not even noticing the number of people who jumped out of her path looking worriedly at the cranky witch.

"Come on, we're not all that bad…" Said a voice beside her.

In a panic Hermione drew her wand and spun to face the person who dared to interrupt her tantrum. Tom Riddle stared down at her wand in amusement and then back up at her. Holding his hands up in mock surrender he smirked.

"Are you alright there Hermione?" He asked with amusement clear on his face.

Hermione huffed in annoyance. "I'm _fine_. Now, if you'll kindly excuse me," She sniped and began walking off. Unfortunately for her, Tom followed and his long legs were, once again, easily able to keep up with her short, angry steps.

"Let me guess… You were lucky enough to observe the magnificent charm of Malfoy and Lestrange?" He asked lightly.

"And how would you know?" She huffed.

"Oh after you stormed out, well Lestrange ran out looking as though Christmas had been cancelled and Malfoy is well… _Malfoy_," He replied and shrugged his shoulders – a bit too casually in her opinion. "Let me guess again… Malfoy was onto Lestrange about your… _qualities _and whether you are deserving of his precious friend?"

Hermione tensed and stopped, turning towards him. He stopped and merely watched her. "How do you know that?" She asked incredulously.

"Malfoy has been observing your interactions with Lestrange all night… nice dancing by the way." He smirked.

Hermione glared at him and began walking again. When she realised Tom was still walking beside her, she stopped and looked at him. "Why are you still following me?" She asked, trying to keep the worried tone from her voice.

"A lady should never walk alone in Diagon Alley at this time of the night," He replied almost mockingly.

Hermione held back the urge to snort. Yes, because Tom Riddle escorting her back to her flat was a far safer option than her walking alone. She needed to find a way to get rid of him, and fast.

"I can take care of myself, thank you very much." She replied rather haughtily.

"I've no doubt. The reactions of those innocent bystanders to your trampling through Diagon Alley are testament to that,"

"Well then why are you still walking with me? I can get home by myself." Hermione replied and then internally cringed at how bossy she sounded towards him. She instantly regretted drinking all of that wine as it made her feel much more outspoken. And being outspoken around Lord Voldemort was not a good idea at all.

Tom smirked. "I was merely curious as too… what offended you so," he mused.

"Oh, so you just assume I'd tell you?" She raised an eyebrow.

Tom merely shrugged. "It never harms in asking - you never know what you'll find out by simply asking." He replied plainly.

Hermione paused in surprise. She recalled how Voldemort had found out about Horcruxes… he was _right_… he did simply ask – and got what he wanted. Of course his carefully cultivated image helped, but Slughorn could have still refused to discuss it with him and he would have had to find other means to find out about Horcruxes. It was amazing what people would tell you when you put them on the spot or surprised them so that they felt compelled to tell you what they knew.

"I suppose you are right about that," She conceded slowly.

"Of course I am. So what upset you?" He continued.

Hermione felt a sudden rush of anger go through her. He wanted to know what they said did he? They were only repeating almost verbatim the same beliefs that Lord Voldemort himself held about muggleborns. In fact she was surprised that they weren't all best friends, sitting there discussing the company Hermione kept. She then remembered how Malfoy had mentioned Riddle as well in his mudblood slander. Hermione smirked at that; _how utterly ironic._

She looked back up at him and decided to humour his question. "Oh, Malfoy was simply concerned about the company I keep… _yourself _included." She replied airily. "Did you know that Malfoy is _very _concerned about _mudbloods_?" She added sarcastically and felt a rush of satisfaction when she noticed how his jaw clenched.

"I thought so," Tom simply replied.

"You know, because I'm friends with Minerva too… and of course that's a worry for Malfoy because she's muggleborn _too,_" She emphasised the last part and knew it was dangerous to do so, but she couldn't help herself and it just slipped out.

"I'm not actually muggleborn," Tom replied with a stony expression on his face.

"I don't really care what you are. I judge people on their personality and capabilities. And when it comes to witches and wizards, I judge on magical talent – rather than who their parents are or what their last name is."

"How idealistic of you," Tom commented lightly, though his face still remained tight.

"I think its common sense actually," She replied with finality.

Tom remained silent and Hermione regarded him. She wondered what sort of nerve she had hit. There was nothing he could really say in response to what she had just said. Nor could he be angry at it… he could sneer at it; call her idealistic, but he couldn't really attack her for it. _Not if he wants to keep his precious charade up_, she thought.

They reached the door of the bookshop and Hermione looked up at Riddle. He looked down at her and suddenly a smirk appeared on his face.

"You know, I'm actually surprised you claim not to know much about me," He suddenly said, causing Hermione to wrinkle her brow in confusion.

"Why would I know anything about you?" She asked in response.

Tom shrugged – again, all too casually. "You work with one of the biggest gossips around… I'm surprised he didn't tell you anything…"

"If you think we sit around discussing you, well… I've no words for that really." Hermione replied haughtily.

"People like to gossip, talk… I'm just making an observation on normal human behaviour." He replied and studied her closely.

"Well I'm not like that," Hermione replied, feeling uncomfortable at how closely he was standing to her.

"Indeed… If I may say, you do seem to be a special case," Tom said.

"Not really…" Hermione reasoned. As she looked up at him she couldn't help but notice how he looked. No wonder he was described as being so popular in his school days. His dark hair was ruffled slightly from the night breeze and his cheeks held a faint flush in them from the cooler weather. Hermione hated that his looks had suddenly distracted her in such a way; she had to remind herself of what he had already done and what he would eventually do. Though having to deal with him on such a frequent basis made it extremely difficult to reconcile that. She had to distract herself from the awful things otherwise it would be almost impossible to cope with seeing him.

"You know, I wonder something about you Hermione… I think you don't like to talk about others because you don't want to talk about yourself." He suddenly said.

Hermione blinked and stared up at him. He was now standing much too close to her. "What do you mean?" She asked quietly, feeling a little afraid now.

"Well, it's simple, isn't it? You turn up in London, a complete mystery, with no real definable past. You never attended Hogwarts, say it's your first time in London and yet you are working on a 'special' project with Dumbledore. You react differently towards certain people and situations… and let's not forget the incident with Vablatsky." He mused as if he was ticking off some kind of mental list.

"That doesn't mean anything," Hermione replied, though she couldn't betray the weak tone in her voice.

"You just seem so very… _alone_…" He said quietly and leaned one of his hands on the door above her head so he was now leaning over her. As he studied her, a sharp glint passed through his eyes.

"I'm not alone," She replied and instead of feeling scared she felt anger begin to well up inside of her. _Trying to intimidate her was he?_ Well, she'd had enough of Lord Voldemort's shenanigans throughout her schooling years, and then there was the fact that she had to wear his locket horcrux for such a long period of time… The disgusting and vile things it tried to make her believe not just about herself, but those surrounding her caused her no end of grief even after it was destroyed. Being reminded of that time in the forest caused her anger to swell even more and she scowled at Tom as he continued to stare down at her, obviously unaware of what she knew about him and was currently thinking. His arrogance shone through as he studied her and it made her resolve against him suddenly become even stronger.

Just as she was about give him a piece of her mind he shocked her into silence again as his other hand reached out and touched her hair. Leisurely, he twirled an errant lock in his fingers and examined it as though it was suddenly the most interesting thing he'd ever seen. He continued playing with it as he turned back to look her in the eyes. A small smile graced his lips as he looked down at her.

"I see… that the spell couldn't contain your hair after all Hermione," He said quietly, his dark eyes searching hers.

Hermione could only stare back at him as he continued to twirl the lock of hair in his fingers almost absentmindedly as he watched her reaction.

"It's like I said earlier tonight; it's almost wonderfully… _telling._" He then smirked and dropped the lock of hair. She didn't miss how his hand lightly ran across her shoulder. "Goodnight Hermione," He added and took a step backwards, creating a normal distance between them again. "I'll see you later."

With that Tom Riddle gracefully turned and walked off into the night. Hermione watched him until she could no longer see him. Taking a shuddering breath, she turned and unlocked the door. As she shakily turned the handle, she told herself that the _only _reason she was reacting this way was due to his suspicious questioning… _not _the fact that she could still mentally feel his hand in her hair and on her shoulder. 

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><p>Whew! that was long...! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. I welcome reviews... If you want a response from me or have a question, please sign in or create an account other wise it's very difficult as I don't reply to anon reviews :)<p>

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	10. Chapter 10

__**Hello my lovely readers, welcome to Chapter 10! I hope you have all had lovely Christmas and New Year breaks. **

_******Disclaimer****:** ****This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

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><p><em>XXX<em>

_So here we are reinventing the wheel / I'm shaking hands with a hurricane / It's a colour that I can't describe / It's a language I can't understand / Ambition, tearing out the heart of you / Carving lines into you / Dripping down the sides of you – Bloc Party (The Pioneers)_

_XXX  
><em>

"I saw you two the other night, you know," Tarquin said suddenly on Monday morning as Hermione sipped on a strong cup of coffee, trying to wake herself up for the day.

"Hmmm?" She looked up slightly confused, noting the smug look of triumph on his face.

"You and Tom," He began, "When Alphard told me you had stormed out I went after you to make sure you were okay, but it looked like Tom beat me to it." He finished smugly.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" She asked as she took in his triumphant expression.

Tarquin's grin widened, "I knew he liked you! And you can't deny it anymore…"

Hermione shook her head. "You're completely over-reacting – there is nothing going on between the two of us."

"Please! He looked as though he was going to kiss you!"

"Well there is nothing going on." She said with finality – not really knowing how to respond to him. How was she supposed to tell Tarquin what was really going on? She sighed in annoyance as she realised that this would make things slightly more difficult.

"Sure Hermione," he replied sarcastically, then after a moment, turned and looked at her with a bit of concern on his face. "Are you okay anyway? I mean, what happened?"

Hermione sighed. So Tarquin had obviously not stuck around to hear why Hermione had gotten so upset. Either that or none of those… _men_ – for lack of a better word – had decided not to let him in on what got her so angry. She had no idea what to say and was trying to think of an appropriate response when he spoke again.

"Alex looked absolutely devastated though… did you two have a fight?" He asked.

Hermione harrumphed at that. "You could say that. Let's just say that I doubt he will be bothering me anymore."

"What happened?" He asked again.

Hermione sighed in annoyance. She really didn't feel like pointing out the obvious bigotry of those idiotic purebloods. "Maybe I don't want to associate with prejudiced people." She muttered.

"Malfoy?" Tarquin asked, not sounding surprised at all.

"That obvious?" She asked.

Tarquin shrugged. "The guy is a git, Hermione. Always has been, always will. I'm pretty sure that if his head was any further up his arse he'd be looking at his own tonsils."

Hermione bit back a laugh, but couldn't stop the small smile appearing on her face. Tarquin gave her a large grin at the sight of her smile.

"Well Alex isn't much better," she added. "I'm really not interested in spending time with people who are so concerned with someone's parentage," She replied haughtily.

"Yeah… To be honest I didn't have much to do with them in school – they were a year above and in another house, mind you, but there were whispers of bullying. Though if the rumours were true, they would have had to have been quite discreet with whatever they got up to." He explained. "Although Alex has always been polite – it's quite disappointing actually."

Hermione nodded. "Well hopefully he gets the hint that I'm certainly not interested in him, especially if he has views like that."

"Well, you wouldn't have to worry about that with a bloke like Tom," Tarquin began to say.

Hermione looked up at him in disbelief. _He had to be joking._ Riddle was a bigger pureblood supremacist than Malfoy and Lestrange put together. He was just a better actor compared to the two dolts.

"Oh yes, Tom grew up in a muggle orphanage, so he never discriminated against anyone at school. He was also the most brilliant student Hogwarts has seen since well, rumours say, Dumbledore himself." He explained.

Hermione wanted to laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all. Steeling herself and wishing she could wake up from what felt like some kind of ridiculous dream she schooled her features and turned back to Tarquin. "I didn't realise that Tom was an orphan." She commented, hoping her acting skills were up to par.

Tarquin nodded emphatically. "Yes, and despite his hardships in life he was always helpful to anyone who asked – no matter what house you were in. I mean, I'm pretty sure I would've failed our last seventh year transfiguration assignment if it wasn't for his help."

"Oh. That's… nice of him," she commented, pretending to suddenly be interested in the books she was supposed to be sorting.

"You don't fool me, you know," Tarquin said in good humour. "I know you're supposed to be with that bloke Ron, but he has never visited you once… _and _he didn't even come to your birthday."

Hermione clenched her fists in frustration at Tarquin's insinuation, and more to the point, her situation. Well, of course Ron wouldn't be showing up to anything. She wished that she had never mentioned him in the first place. She remained silent and decided not to humour him with a response. She also decided to ignore the amused glance he shot her way, as though he knew something she didn't.

"All I'm saying is that if you two were to get together, I wouldn't think you were being disrespectful or anything... As in, I wouldn't think you were cheating or anything." He finally said, realising that Hermione wasn't going to say anything.

"Is it so hard to believe that I am _not _interested in Tom Riddle?" She exclaimed in frustration.

"Okay, okay," Tarquin replied, hands up in defence at Hermione's furious expression. "I'm simply interpreting what I've seen recently."

"Well you're completely wrong." Hermione muttered, thoroughly ignoring the disbelieving smirk on his face, as well as the sudden feeling of heat on her cheeks.

* * *

><p>Tom had spent the morning sorting through several recent purchases made by Burke for the shop. The purchase that held his interest the most, and the one he was currently handling with great care, was a set of knives. Not just any set of knives though; they were hunting knives, used by a small group of wizarding assassins. Tom had briefly read about them in a book which covered a range of wizarding criminals a couple of years ago and he felt a certain level of smugness that he now held them in his hands.<p>

The knives had been brought to England from America by a rather shady wizard about two decades ago. Tom suspected that they hadn't been obtained legally, but one really had to question whether normal morals should be placed around the goods which often appeared in this store. He smirked as he lightly brushed his fingers over the fine turquoise handles, careful in handling them – even though he knew all the power was held in the blades. They were charmed so that whoever had ordered the assassination could view a memory of the kill via the blood caught on the blade. They had been created by a tribe of Native Americans hundreds of years ago and were a crude way for one to go. The knives had seen a revival in popularity during the 1800s for both torture and murder before almost fading into obscurity again after the majority were confiscated by American Aurors.

These artefacts were just one of the many things which demonstrated that there was so much to learn about magic outside of Britain. Tom thought of those idiots who gave him sympathetic looks when they realised he was now working in a shop. Were they really that stupid? He was a Slytherin and former Head Boy of Hogwarts, wouldn't they put two and two together and realise that he had much bigger ambitions then slowly working his way up the career ladder in some boring Ministry role? Tom smirked, whilst this opinion was extremely frustrating, it always worked in his favour. Still, he couldn't wait for the day where he could stop pretending and start being.

He checked the time and was surprised to see it was almost lunch. He had been so completely engrossed in sorting through all of the new artefacts, and in absence of the usual annoying customers, had lost track of time. Of course lunch meant getting to see what kind of reaction he would receive from Hermione Edwards after what had happened after her birthday party on Friday night.

If he was honest with himself – despite the fact that he may loathe the idea in this particular case – Hermione Edwards had not been far from his thoughts over the weekend. He had to admit that she had simply begun as a way to 'pass the time' and a bit of a curiosity to solve and then move on from… however, he knew his interest was much deeper than that now. Mainly because he knew her secrets were much deeper than what many could imagine – perhaps, he could even grudgingly admit, himself.

Her reactions also awoke a deep seeded interest in him. She seemed to get annoyed at him, and perhaps even disgusted by him, yet when he thought of the flush on her cheeks when he stood so closely to her that night, he knew she wasn't completely immune. Of course he could admit she looked very attractive that night, any bloke would, but Tom was someone who never cared much for looks anyway. He had had his share of good-looking women, and they were all the same in the end: easy, shallow, vacuous and predictable. Therefore, he used them as he saw fit and then got rid of them just as quickly.

However, when the bossy little witch had turned her wand on him after he followed her from the Palace, he had felt something unfurl in his stomach. The way she looked with her ever-escaping hair, threatening scowl and defensive posture had shown him the promise of a challenge. Fortunately – or perhaps _unfortunately _for her – Tom never shied away from a challenge and therefore anticipated today's lunch just to see what would happen. What was the best way to approach a woman like Hermione Edwards? The funny thing was that he could recognise many of the same traits in her. She wasn't easily impressed by good looks or shallow preoccupations, so he'd have to approach her much differently to his normal modus operandi on women. It was sure to be interesting indeed.

Just as he was imagining what swotty comments would come out of her mouth today, he was unceremoniously brought out of his thoughts by Burke lumbering back through the store.

"Riddle," Burke greeted, "Come into the office, there's something we need to talk about." He said plainly and continued to the office.

Tom followed his boss and then watched as the older man moved around his desk and flopped unceremoniously into his chair, chubby fingers clasped in front of his rather large stomach.

"Yes, Mr Burke?" Tom asked politely as he stood before him, hands clasped behind his back.

"I need you to stay on through lunch today,"

"Sir-" Tom began to protest, but Burke quickly interrupted.

"I know you like to get out of the shop for your lunch boy, but we've got a customer coming in who always spends up big, and the silly bint even has some artefacts that I would love to get my hands on."

Tom felt irritation bubbling up inside of him but kept it masked under a cool exterior. "With all due respect Mr Burke, if you know what she is like then perhaps you are the best one to do this deal? It's just that I would hate to mess any of your plans up." Tom quickly spoke the last part with as much flattery that he could muster, hoping it would appease the old buffoon and allow him to get out of working through his lunch break.

"Nonsense boy – you've yet to disappoint me with a sale," Burke replied, dismissing Tom's reasoning with a flick of his hand. "Plus, a young man like you, giving flattery to a woman like her – well, I can only imagine what we could possibly get out of this. You will, of course, be commissioned more generously if you procure any sales from the awful woman. I do like to look after my staff and know it will be somewhat of an inconvenience for you dealing with her, especially if it becomes a regular occurrence."

Tom did not miss the greedy sheen pass through Burke's eyes as he so obviously thought of the possibilities in dealing with this potential customer. Clenching his fists in annoyance, Tom wished he could curse to idiot as now he would miss his lunch. Still, perhaps he could simply head out at a later time; he would still need to get something to eat after all. Perhaps it may also keep Miss Hermione Edwards on her toes, as he was sure she'd be simply expecting him to show up. The last thing he wanted was to become predictable to her.

Pasting a small smile on his face, Tom looked back at his boss. "It would be my pleasure to work with this customer Mr Burke. I will still need to go out and get something to eat afterwards if you don't mind?"

Burke's face immediately lit up at Tom's answer. He obviously had complete confidence in Tom's ability to charm a customer. "Excellent, now, let me tell you a bit about Hepzibah Smith…"

* * *

><p>What sort of game was he playing at? Did he think that she was <em>so <em>affected by him that not turning up to share the book would cause some sort of reaction in her? Hermione huffed and bit into what was supposed to have been Tom Riddle's sandwich.

_Well, if he decides he doesn't want to show up without notice and waste other people's __**valuable **__time then the sandwiches are not his to be enjoyed! _Hermione thought mordantly as she chewed thoughtfully, washing it down with some hot tea.

Tom Riddle had a motive for everything he did. Obviously he was just trying to get a rise out of her, especially after his behaviour on Friday night… still she couldn't hide the fact that she had been curious as to how he would behave today. Yet when he didn't saunter in with some annoyingly stupid comment or that stupid smirk like he usually did, Hermione wondered just what that git was playing at.

_Besides, they had a deal!_ She reasoned to herself, thinking of the book she was supposed to have been reading today. She was so close to finishing too! This is why she then immediately wondered if he were doing this to get some sort of rise out of her. Well, if he thought it would work, she would sure show him who he was dealing with.

She told herself that she wasn't angry that he simply didn't show; she was angry that she wasn't getting to read the book. Yes, that was all – nothing more, nothing less. She _knew _that Friday night meant nothing, and it was silly of her to even keep replaying what had happened as she looked for a motive or small inkling in understanding his behaviour.

Yet that small voice in the back of her head chose that moment to remind her of Friday evening and how he had almost behaved, well Hermione was loathe to admit – even to herself – _flirtatiously _with her.

_Lord Voldemort was not interested in women! _

It was simply ridiculous. She had never heard of him having a girlfriend or anything of the sort when she was trying to research his past during the war. Harry had never mentioned anything from what he knew of his school days either. She supposed she could ask Tarquin, he seemed one for gossip and could possibly tell her. But then again, she almost banged her head in annoyance imagining Tarquin's reaction at such a question. He was already acting like they had some sort of 'secret liaison' going on – she didn't need things to become worse just because she was a tiny bit curious about whether Riddle had ever had a girlfriend or not.

She was still thinking about Riddle when she heard a shuffle near her table, looking up, she couldn't hide the surprise at the person who was now standing in front of her.

"Alphard…! I wasn't expecting to see you." Hermione said unable to hide her surprise.

"Erm, yes… well… I suppose I dropped by to…" He trailed off, looking extremely awkward, and stepped forward to the little desk she always sat at.

Hermione's eyebrows rose with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, yet she didn't say anything. She watched as Alphard sat awkward across from her in the chair Tom normally sat in.

"Are you okay?" He finally asked.

Hermione's eyebrows rose even further – if that was possible. "You're asking me if I'm okay? You're the one who seems rather out of place Alphard."

She watched as his shoulders relaxed and a small chuckle escaped his lips. "Yeah, I suppose you're right there Hermione. Sorry about that. I just mean… the other night – you left so quickly, are you okay?"

Hermione looked down and bit her lip, not really knowing how to answer the question; they were his friends after all. "Do you know what happened?" She finally asked.

Alphard grimaced and paused for a minute. "I've got a good idea what happened," He said simply.

"Yeah, well, I'll be fine."

"I'm sorry about them, you know. Alex feels terrible and doesn't know how to approach you."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's not your job to apologise for their behaviour, you know."

"I know," Alphard quickly responded, "It's just… well, what exactly did they say?" He asked tentatively.

"You _dear _friend Abraxas was concerned about my heritage," Hermione rather snappishly answered and wouldn't admit to feeling a small amount of pleasure at seeing the young man flinch at her words. "I suppose he was making sure I was 'good enough' for your other friend, you see."

"Ah, I see."

"So you can imagine…" Hermione's hands gestured absentmindedly as if to give some explanation. "I mean, no offence, but I'm not romantically interested in your friend."

Alphard sighed, "I figured that was the case now. So there's no chance of Alex even getting a look in?"

Hermione snorted rather inelegantly. "No… besides the fact that I am already seeing someone, I'm not interested if they are _that _prejudiced_._" She watched him as he uncomfortably moved around in his seat. "Why are you friends with them? You and Minerva…" She then trailed off quietly, feeling suddenly uncomfortable for having the nerve to ask him such a personal question.

"Hermione, are you a muggleborn?" He suddenly asked, surprising her.

"I… Yes, yes I am." She stuck her chin out defiantly.

Alphard suddenly pulled his wand out and before Hermione could say anything cast a non-verbal spell. She had no idea what it was – she guessed that it was perhaps something to notify them if anyone were to suddenly approach them. "I obviously don't care about your heritage… I was just curious you see, and Minnie had said a couple of things too which made me wonder. But no matter, as a muggleborn you should know and have experience that nothing is ever black and white."

"Yes, but-"

"Hermione, my world isn't an easy one to live in. There are certain expectations placed on you, certain _beliefs_-" Alphard's lip curled somewhat in disgust, "that your family push on you… Sometimes, to sound disgustingly sentimental, all you have are your friends. My friends aren't perfect, and yes, Abraxas in particular is still a bigoted git at times, but they understand me better than anyone – except maybe Minnie."

Hermione stared at him in surprise. Never had she expected him to be so candid with her. She suspected that Minerva might have something to do with it, and the fact she knew about their relationship. The way he spoke reminded her of what Harry had told her about Sirius' upbringing. No wonder he had helped Sirius out.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to judge." She finally said with as much sincerity as possible.

"Water off a duck's back!" He then grinned at her flippantly. "You do realise that they all think you're some sort of pureblood genius though right?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well it's not like I told them that. They all just made assumptions and came up with their own ideas. I admit didn't correct them though – even though it seems as though most of these discussions seemed to have occurred without me even being present." She looked down at her hands, slightly embarrassed.

"Well it's safer that way, considering the company you've mainly been keeping."

"And _what _is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, Riddle, for one. I mean Tarquin is a pureblood but not prejudiced at all… Are you interested in him or something?"

Hermione gaped at him. What on earth was wrong in this timeline where everyone seemed to be under the assumption that she had some kind of romantic designs on _Riddle_?

Alphard obviously mistook her stunned silence and looked at her apologetically. "Look, you wouldn't be the first bird to fall for Riddle… but, you need to be careful, yeah?"

Hermione could simply sit there staring at him. Finally, she took a breath and blinked. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Look, I'm just telling you to be careful, alright?"

Hermione remained quiet. She didn't want to tell Alphard that she already knew all of this – knew exactly what he was like, that he was perhaps worse than Malfoy and Lestrange put together.

"Why are you warning me?" She asked instead, with more than a hint of curiosity in her voice.

Alphard shrugged. "Both Minnie and I like you… and I just… I know what Riddle can be like. When I suspected you were a muggleborn I thought I should say something."

Hermione was suddenly curious to hear what Alphard had to say about Riddle. _Of course _she knew what he was like, but she wanted to hear Alphard's reasons. She wondered if perhaps Riddle wasn't always able to hide his perfect façade around everyone. She wondered if he would actually reveal anything.

"What do you mean exactly?" She asked tentatively.

Alphard looked around and then rubbed a hand down his face. "Look, perhaps I'm overreacting a bit. You seem like a smart girl Hermione, and I'm sure you can see through certain things that others can't?"

Hermione stared at him and then nodded slowly. Alphard was obviously perceptive enough to see through Riddle's act, but what had made him specifically seek her out and warn her? Considering he didn't know her that well and she was sure that whilst he may have been able to see through Riddle's pretences, had he witnessed something that he wasn't supposed to?

"Thanks Alphard," She smiled. "You're right, you know, about everything."

Alphard smirked, "Yeah I know," He replied with a charming arrogance. "Look I've got to clear out… Mum's got some awful dinner planned and has demanded my wonderful presence. I'll tell Alex to back off alright?" He said with a wink.

Hermione couldn't stop the small grin from appearing on her face. "Thanks."

"And then later on we'll catch up, yeah? You, me and Minnie? Although I might need you to put in a good word to Minnie for me… she's still a bit cranky about the other night, you see." He added a bit sheepishly.

"Oh I see what this is all about… trying to get in my good books so Minerva will talk to you?" Strangely enough, Hermione didn't find herself annoyed at his behaviour. He was a Slytherin after all; _quid pro quo_.

"My dear, all of my motives are, of course, genuine… but it would still be lovely if you could talk to her. She can be rather unforgiving when she's miffed about something."

"Yeah, yeah, alright." She grinned.

* * *

><p>Hermione had just locked up the shop and was ready to go out and get some dinner when she felt a hand grip her shoulder. Spinning around in shock, Tom was standing there smirking at her.<p>

"Good evening," He said, amusement dancing in his dark eyes at her surprised reaction.

Hermione quickly schooled her features. "Hello Tom. I'm afraid you've just missed out, the shop closes at five."

"I came to see you actually. I wanted to apologise for missing lunch, I unfortunately got caught up at work."

"It's fine," Hermione replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I really need to go get going." She said, trying to smile politely and walk around him.

"What's the hurry?" He asked as he walked down the street with her.

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes; did he have to follow her?

"Sorry, I'm forgetting myself and don't mean to be short with you. I'm going to get dinner and I'm quite hungry that's all." She replied, trying to sound somewhat apologetic and hoping that he would get the message and go away.

"I hope you weren't hungry because you were waiting for me to turn up at lunch?"

Hermione suddenly stopped and turned to face him in shock. _Was he serious? _What, did he think that she sat there all day waiting for him to show up and starving herself so she wouldn't miss eating lunch with him? She stared at him waiting for a reaction but he didn't give much away at all, making Hermione wonder if he was really _that _arrogant… actually, what a silly thought. She _knew _he was that arrogant – hence why he was defeated by them decades in the future.

"You cannot be serious," She muttered and then continued walking, not caring if he kept up with her or not. Unfortunately, once again, she was reminded of his superior height and his annoying ability to easily keep up with her.

"Well I would never know, would I?" He smirked at her.

Hermione shook her head, "Really, I am not one of _those _girls – so you can get that impression out of your head right now," She bristled. "And for your information, I did eat my lunch – and yours too."

She watched as a he was obviously trying not to laugh at her. He was so irritating. Without fail, Hermione always found herself riled up whenever he was around. Whether she was getting annoyed at him, or arguing about something academic, it felt as though he was constantly challenging her to be on the front foot. She suddenly wondered if she'd feel the same way if they met and she had no idea who he was.

Tom never responded to her huffy response, instead choosing to walk quietly beside her. Hermione looked at the tiny cafes and restaurants dotted along the Alley and the adjoining laneways. There were a number to choose from and Hermione couldn't really decide what she felt like eating the most. Hoping that Riddle would soon go his own separate way, she eyed a small brightly lit restaurant which she had wanted to try for a while. The restaurant always looked as though they had a fairly loyal clientele, with a mixture from all walks of society. She turned and looked at Tom, who was still, much to her chagrin, walking with her.

"Well, this is me, have a nice night. I guess I'll see you around," Hermione said as they stopped and she moved to the side of the walkway.

"Where are you eating?" He asked.

"Oh," Hermione frowned somewhat, not really wanting to answer. "Just over there," She replied and nodded at the small restaurant which was now only a few metres from where they stood.

Tom turned and looked at the restaurant and she watched as his eyebrows shot up in slight recognition. "I've eaten there before, it's good." He replied, giving the place his nod of approval.

Hermione gave an awkward shrug. "Right, well, see you later then," She said and quickly went to walk away.

"Wait," He called and Hermione felt her shoulders tense at the dreaded expectation he would do this and the slight ordering tone he used. She turned to face him again and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"I'll join you. I need dinner too," He said and Hermione had to stop her mouth from gaping open in shock.

_Merlin's pants! How did this happen? _She thought anxiously as Tom walked over to re-join her. There was no way of getting out of this. What was she supposed to say? '_No thanks, I would rather sit and eat in a restaurant by myself than eat with you'_? Well that did have some merit and definite truth… but then again, she couldn't say that!

"Is there a problem?" He asked and Hermione thought she saw _something _show through his normally calm façade, but it was gone before she had a chance to confirm what exactly it was.

"No, nothing," She replied, though she wanted to slap herself as her voice came out a little squeaky.

He smirked at her. "Well let's go then," He ordered and strode off ahead of her, leaving Hermione to almost run rather ungracefully to keep up with his long, confident strides.

* * *

><p>The tables were far too small for Hermione's liking and the lighting far too… <em>impractical.<em> This was the kind of place she would ask Ron to take her. Yet here she was eating with Tom Marvolo Riddle, and she again had to ask how on earth this had happened. The worst part was that he had remained disgustingly polite throughout the entire meal, had impeccable taste in wine and proceeded to charm the pants off anyone in the near vicinity.

It was entirely unfair, Hermione mentally huffed as she went to reach for the pepper, only to have Tom reach across and lightly dash some on her dinner for her. _Stupid, controlling git_, she thought and was equally annoyed to find that he had added the perfect amount. This, of course, set the two old ladies sitting not too far from them into a titter. Words such as 'handsome', 'attentive' and 'lucky girl' wafted over to Hermione causing her even more annoyance. Did she already mention that this restaurant was far too intimate for her liking?

"How's your research coming along?" Tom asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"Oh… it's fine," Hermione was stumped at his question. If she was ever honest with him (and _that_ was never going to happen) she would confess that she hadn't made nearly enough progress as she would have liked. She had hoped to speak to Professor Dumbledore at her birthday dinner, but the Professor seemed more determined to enjoy Valeria's cooking and Hermione never got a chance to get him on his own. She would have to owl him sooner rather than later; she really needed to meet with him and discuss several findings with him – her progress was rather slow and she intended on rectifying that as soon as possible.

"You don't seem as though you feel that way," He said, much too perceptively, for Hermione's taste. "What are you struggling with?"

Hermione wondered – very whimsically of course – that if she was ambiguous enough with what she told him whether he'd be able to make any links to her situation… But the idea died as soon as it formed. After everything that happened on Friday night, she knew that saying anything to him about her current academic issues was like holding a red flag to a bull. Such a shame, he was _so _intelligent.

Tom Riddle's appetite for knowledge was more voracious than hers, and for Hermione to even admit that meant that she had matured a lot in the past few years and could see and appreciate his intellect for what it was. Well, she never thought he was stupid, it was just fascinating – in a very, very weird way - to watch him think and process things in the flesh. It troubled her to understand the depth of his intelligence, because what he sought out to know and gain was so, so wrong. Hermione understood that life, or magic for that matter, wasn't black and white, but she could never reconcile how he could justify that there was no such thing as good and evil – just power.

"Let me try and guess then," He began with what could only be described as an innocently amused expression on his face, which was so much more disturbing to Hermione because of her most recent thoughts. "You say your project is based around Ancient Runes… what could possibly be troubling about that?"

Hermione huffed, "You know, maybe I went out for dinner to have a break from work." She looked down and fiddled with her food a little. "But yes, my work is based around Ancient Runes… so what is your final analysis from that?"

Tom sat back in his chair and looked at her. "Why won't you tell me?" He asked instead, all aspects of him appearing nonchalant except for his dark eyes which completely penetrated her.

Hermione bristled slightly at being caught off guard by what she considered – especially coming from him – to be such an upfront question. "Why do you need to know?" She shot back, trying not to tremble under his now heated gaze. Suddenly the restaurant seemed far too small. They continued staring at one another, Hermione felt as though she was rooted to the spot by him. She felt her heart rate increase and her breathing break regularity. She couldn't explain what was going on; she could only continue staring at him.

But before either of them could say anything, the atmosphere was completely shattered. A loud, excited exclamation carried across the restaurant, effectively pulling them from the little world they had created.

"Tom!"

Both Hermione and Tom jolted and turned to what Hermione considered as being more of a screech, rather than an actual voice. Hermione spied a young woman, who appeared to be about their age, with long, wavy black hair, red lips and expensive looking dress robes. She quickly made her way over to their table and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the woman as she had effectively broke the dreaded conversation and strange atmosphere that had just surrounded them.

"Walburga," Tom greeted politely. "Fancy seeing you here."

_Wait, this was Walburga Black? _Hermione looked up in shock at the young woman who would be Sirius' mother and in her time, a rather hideous portrait at Grimmauld Place.

"I know! I can't believe we didn't spot you earlier," She said and shot Hermione a curious look. "But when I saw you I just had to come over and say hello – even though Tony told me not to disturb your date." She looked slyly between the two of them causing Hermione to snort slightly.

But before Hermione could correct her on their situation, Antonin Dolohov appeared next to Walburga, taking her arm in his. _Wait, Walburga and Dolohov are an item? Must be before she marries her relative_, Hermione thought in a rather snarky manner.

"Tom, Hermione," Dolohov greeted, looking somewhat nervously at Tom and giving Hermione a quick smile. "Sorry to interrupt, Walburga wouldn't take _'no'_ for an answer." He said in a light-hearted manner.

Hermione could tell that Dolohov was providing an explanation to Tom, and she was brought back to reality as he gave a small nod – as if approving Dolohov's answer.

"Hermione, was it?" Walburga suddenly spoke, "Nice to meet you and sorry, I hope we aren't interrupting your date too much – I just haven't seen Tom in such a long time and had to say hello." She smiled.

Hermione coughed, "Er, actually we aren't on a-"

"Of course you aren't interrupting Walburga," Tom smoothly spoke over Hermione, therefore not allowing her to correct them on their status. _Annoying git_.

Hermione turned and gave him a look, causing Tom to cock an eyebrow in amusement at her expression. Trying not to scowl further, she turned back to Walburga and Dolohov. She found Walburga looking at Tom with some kind of excitable expression, whilst Dolohov seemed to be carefully watching the interaction between Tom and Hermione.

Before anyone could speak, Walburga began babbling, asking Tom all sorts of questions about what he had been up to since they last saw each other. Hermione was relieved that his attention had been forcefully diverted… _for the time being_, she thought reluctantly. She really had to do something about that. She looked up at Walburga and Dolohov and knew she'd need to come up with something soon. She looked at Tom again and could tell that despite his polite expression, he wasn't pleased with the interruption. She knew Dolohov would be aware of this and be currently working out a way to get Walburga to move on. She suddenly smirked as a plan formed in her mind.

"Oh!" Hermione suddenly piped up, putting her best charming smile on, and feeling three pairs of eyes rest on her. "Why don't you both join us for coffee and desert, that way you can have a proper catch up?" She smiled innocently, ignoring the way Tom stared at her.

"Thank you for the offer Hermione, but we couldn't impose on your dinner like that," Dolohov replied.

"Nonsense! Besides, it's so lovely to meet new people," Hermione replied and flashed a winning smile at Walburga who seemed eager at the suggestion. "You don't mind, do you Tom?" She turned towards him with a wide, innocent look on her face.

Tom looked at her calculatingly, but Hermione kept her expression stead-fast. "Why, where will they sit Hermione?" He finally replied, his expression neutral.

Hermione smirked, "Magic, of course." She waved her wand and lengthened the table, summoning two extra chairs from an empty table nearby. She turned to Walburga and Dolohov and smiled. "Please, take a seat," She gestured at the empty chairs. Dolohov sat down with a rather constipated expression that almost made Hermione laugh out loud, whilst Walburga sat down eagerly, not even noticing the tension emanating from both Tom and Dolohov.

"So!" Hermione began brightly – extremely pleased with herself and completely ignoring the scowl that was developing on Tom Riddle's face, "What desert do you all recommend?"

* * *

><p>Tom had been in a frustrated mood all morning and he blamed Hermione Edwards. Did she really think that she could hold him off forever? <em>Impudent witch<em>. Tom scowled as he recalled the night before… he'd have to have words with Dolohov about keeping his whore in better line. Walburga ruined an entire night's work for him. The surprise was Hermione however. The way she had manipulated the situation so she was no longer alone with him told him that she was more cunning than what he would have initially thought.

The girl was a mass of contradictions. She was outspoken, yet incredibly secretive, brash yet could act quite well when needed… emotional, yet seemed to be able to detach herself at the right moments. _A challenge_, a voice right at the back of Tom's mind whispered to him. He felt a flurry of _something _travel through him at the voices confirmation… Though Tom was far too stubborn to name whatever that something was.

Unfortunately today, he wouldn't be able to use his lunchtime visits to gather any more information either. Before Hermione had quickly scampered off back to her flat, she had told him not to bother as she said she'd be trying to meet with Dumbledore about her project. He knew he couldn't use that Wenlock book as leverage for much longer. If she felt threatened enough, the book would be easily cast aside – no matter how much she wanted to read it.

It annoyed him to no ends. Every time he attempted to cast a foot forward, she would inevitably put all her force into pushing him back. But he'd find out eventually – no matter what. Tom Riddle had had bigger challenges in his life, and he wasn't about to let Hermione Edwards get in the way of stopping him from finding out what he wanted to know.

The front door opening alerted him to a new customer, and he looked up with a polite expression on his face. The expression turned hard as he recognised the person at the door.

"Lestrange," He greeted coolly, as Alexander Lestrange walked purposefully into the store, eyeing him with a semblance of surprise.

"Riddle," He greeted, his tone just as icy, "I thought you wouldn't be here,"

"I work here," Tom replied dully.

"Yes, but your lunchtimes are normally… preoccupied, are they not?" The older boy asked with a bland expression on his face. "You seem to spend a fair bit of time with Miss Edwards."

Tom merely stared back at Lestrange, who seemed to be looking at him in a calculating manner. Instead of commenting on Lestrange's observation he cleared his throat. "How may I assist you today?"

Lestrange cocked an eyebrow and Tom wanted to curse the bastard. _Stupid, impudent, prick, _Tom thought in annoyance. Did he have any idea what he was able to do to him? School was over now, anything Tom did to the prick would be incredibly difficult to trace…

"I'm here to pick up an order my Father made," Lestrange announced and handed Tom a piece of parchment.

Tom quickly eyed the parchment and stopped yet again. _Lestrange _was purchasing the knives? The knives that Tom had admired the day before were being purchased by this prat? Tom felt an annoyance he didn't even know was possible. How could this fool possibly appreciate the history and use of those knives?

"Ah, the knives." Tom said coldly. "I'll just go get them."

Tom promptly organised the sale, wanting to get rid of Lestrange quickly. It was bad enough that he had to see him more often now that Lestrange seemed to have some kind of weird romantic interest in Hermione. Although, he was gleefully reminded of Lestrange's mistake the other night, so he doubted Hermione would want much to do with him now. Tom ignored the faint relief that travelled through him at that thought. It was only because he was getting in the way, Tom justified.

"Hmm," Lestrange looked down at the knives with disinterest, "Father said they were for me."

Tom looked at Lestrange and how bored he seemed with the gifted valuable artefacts. It was so typical of a pureblood like Lestrange to not appreciate what he had at his disposal. It made Tom sick with fury at how obviously spoilt this boy was. He had never had to need or want for anything. Everything had always been handed to him on a silver platter.

"The scroll that comes with them provides a history and information on their uses." Tom replied in a perfunctory manner. He would still keep his perfect reputation up. There was no way he was going to let someone as rich and influential as a Lestrange ruin anything for him.

Lestrange nodded and signed the receipt which would be added to the Lestrange account at Borgin and Burkes. He then took the items, gave Tom a cool look and went to leave the store. Before he left however, he turned to Tom and gave him a look.

"Is there anything else?" Tom asked.

"Actually, yes there is… it's about Miss Edwards actually… her project is on Ancient Runes, is it not?" He asked, a small smirk gracing his features.

Tom was surprised at the question, but his features betrayed nothing. "That is what she says," Tom replied nonchalantly.

"Excellent," He said, and keeping his eyes on Tom, continued, "the Lestrange library is one of the largest in the country. We have quite a selection on Ancient Runes. Perhaps she will appreciate the… gesture." He gave Tom a look, his smug smirk turning superior.

Tom felt his fists clench in anger underneath the cashier desk he was standing behind. He itched to reach for his wand. The idea of Lestrange even trying to charm Hermione through books was laughable. Lestrange was not intelligent enough for her. Not that he even cared about that, it was just an obvious observation. Tom just didn't want Lestrange to ruin his plans to find out what she was hiding, especially if the prat was trying to romance her. _How ridiculous_, he thought.

"An apology?" Tom asked, watching with glee as Lestrange's smug smirk faltered slightly. "Well, good luck. Oh, and please pass on my regards to June Parkinson… I heard that there is to be an official engagement to be announced soon between the two of you?"

Lestrange's smirk fell completely and he eyed Riddle with the distaste he had become so accustomed too. Tom felt victorious as he had hit such a sore nerve on the prat.

"Good day Riddle." Lestrange replied with tersely and stormed out of the shop. Tom stood there, basking in the small victory momentarily before getting back to work, and thinking and planning his next move on Hermione Edwards.

* * *

><p><strong>Hmmm, seems like two certain people are in denial - and I'm not talking about Tarquin or Alphard here ;)<strong>

**Coming up in the next chapter... Hermione will be meeting with Dumbledore and more mayhem with Riddle - how's he going to go into 'phase 2' of his plan to find out what Hermione's secret is?**

**Thank you all for your wonderful reviews and support. I've honestly been so floored by the wonderful response this fic has received, so thank you! **

**Special thanks to those who reviewed last time around: **

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	11. Chapter 11

**Hi All, welcome to Chapter 11!**

**Thank you for your patience in waiting, I've been a bit busy having a baby :) So please enjoy this update...  
><strong>

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><p><em>XXX<em>

_"So take logic off the shelf / Deep in your heart and your vision of self / Your cold blood is wearing thin / Cold blood and the stain on me" - The Jezabels (Horsehead)_

_XXX  
><em>

"How are you Hermione?" Dumbledore asked as they sat down at a secluded table in the Leaky Cauldron.

Hermione exhaled heavily, where would she begin exactly?

"It looks as though you feel as though the weight of the world is sitting on your shoulders," he observed with a small, comforting smile on his face.

A short, incredulous laugh escaped her, "Well in some ways, yes," she looked up at him from her cup of tea, and when he didn't respond with anything she took another deep breath and continued, "I just thought that by now I would've have found a way home. It's so hard to keep lying to people about who I am and why I'm here."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful for a moment. "Difficult because you feel guilty or difficult because your pretences were, to you, more of a temporary nature?"

"I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a bit of both," she responded. "Because I didn't plan on being here for so long, I've told people things that I am now regretting – or have behaved in a way which, if I knew the length of time I would be here for, wouldn't have." She was, of course, thinking of the way she had spoken to and behaved around Tom. If she had known how long she would be here, she would have behaved much more differently.

Dumbledore nodded, understanding passing through his blue eyes. "And that, of course, is why we always say that hindsight is a wonderful thing." He replied. "But this isn't just about your friendship with Mr Skeeter is it?"

Hermione looked up at her old Headmaster in surprise. But before she could ask, Dumbledore continued.

"Whilst Mr Skeeter should be given more appreciation from others for both his magical and observational skills, I doubt he is the one you're thinking about, is he? I understand that you have been spending a fair amount of time with Tom Riddle?"

Hermione couldn't stop herself from flinching, causing her teacup to make an uncomfortable scraping noise against its saucer. "I…" she began, but didn't really know what to say; finally she just nodded her head. "Yes, well he's letting me read a book he was allowed to access. Er-"

"Did you know that Tom was one of most intelligent students to attend Hogwarts?" Dumbledore suddenly asked, his neutral expression not changing.

"I haven't told him anything," Hermione replied emphatically. "And yes, I know he's intelligent."

Dumbledore gave a small chuckle. "You sound like you feel guilty about spending time with him?"

Hermione shrugged, "I shouldn't really be getting close to anyone here, should I?"

"That remains to be seen. Your situation is still a mystery, after all," he mused. "Do you specifically regret something you have said to Tom?"

Hermione took a deep breath. She hadn't told the Professor anything about future events yet, but of course she knew that he was one of the only people who ever suspected Tom Riddle of anything. "Yes." She finally answered.

"I imagine that with the way Tom is, you had not even realised you'd said something until you thought it was much too late," he replied.

"I suppose-" Hermione began to answer, before Dumbledore held his hands up for her to stop.

"Forgive my curiosity, and do not feel like you need to reveal anything more to me," he said quickly. "Time is a funny thing and we have no idea what you being here will do to the future…"

"So you aren't able to give much more information to me?" Hermione asked.

"Not at this point in time… did you read my notes?"

"Yes, there was a lot on the linkages between the muggle and wizarding world. Why is that? And do you really think it has something to do with how I got here?" Hermione asked.

"I believe that not enough attention is placed on the historical influences and linkages between the muggle and wizarding world. Whilst the International Statute of Secrecy is incredibly important, since its introduction, wizards – possibly through their own arrogance - have placed so little importance on the muggle world and any historical linkages from it. Many ancient and traditional linkages have been forgotten or ignored because we place so little value on such things now."

Hermione was suddenly interested. "So what does this have to do with my situation?"

"It's still too early to tell, but I would like you to meet a close friend of mine. He might be able to assist you in your current situation. Are you free to come to Hogwarts this weekend?"

"H-hogwarts?" Hermione stuttered.

Dumbledore smiled. "Yes."

"Oh!" Hermione breathed in excitement, "Sure, I'd love to!"

* * *

><p>"Finished!" Hermione announced – perhaps a bit too cheerfully - as she closed Wenlock's book and looked up at Tom.<p>

Even though it was midweek, she was still on a high after her earlier meeting with Professor Dumbledore. She couldn't even hide her good mood around Tom. This weekend she would be going to Hogwarts, meeting Dumbledore's contact and maybe learning more about her situation. Just the thought of possibly going back to her own time kept an almost permanent smile on her face. Whilst she had regrets about certain things she had said and done, if she managed to find a way home very soon, she held hope that time wouldn't be altered too much. If anything, it made her feel much less stressed about all the things she had said and done.

Tom observed her from the book he was reading. Whilst his face was expressionless, she could tell he was curious about the rather exuberant mood she had been showcasing in the last couple of days. She was actually surprised he hadn't commented on it yet.

"So you are. What did you think?" he asked as he reached across and took the book.

"It was certainly a privilege to read," Hermione replied. "Er, thanks for letting me read it – I very much appreciate it." she said, before flushing and realising that was the first time she didn't find any difficulty in thanking him.

"It wasn't a problem," he replied easily. "I take it you'll be now solely concentrating on your own project?"

Hermione looked down and a small smirk graced her lips, she just knew he wouldn't have been able to help himself.

"You know, the other night, we never got to finish our conversation," he continued.

Hermione looked at him inquisitively as she stood up, getting ready to get back to work. "Oh? And what conversation was that?"

Tom stood as well, placing the book in his pocket and stepped around the table. "You know, what your project is actually about,"

Her eyebrows shot up as she appraised him. "Well, I already did tell you a few times, it's about Ancient Runes,"

"Yes, I know that… but we both know that is rather ambiguous answer," He replied, throwing her a rather innocent look. "What are you hiding, Hermione?" he asked, his voice was suddenly nothing but a murmur – as though it was just something to be shared between the two of them.

She felt her stomach tighten. The way her name had fallen from his lips should have been illegal coming from _him _of all people. Not even when he confronted her on the night of her birthday did he use such a tone. Her eyes immediately fell down and as she tried to work out what to do next. He had thrown her again, in a matter of seconds and it frustrated her to no end.

When she looked up again, he had already closed the gap between the two of them and she couldn't help the small gasp that escaped her at his close proximity. She tried taking a step backwards and almost cursed when she hit the table.

She inhaled sharply as he lowered his head closely to hers; so close that she could feel his breath along her neck, causing goosebumps to erupt along her neck and shoulder.

"Nothing," she replied quietly, trying to control her breathing as her heart began thumping uncontrollably. _Just what exactly was he trying to do?_

He chuckled, bringing one of his hands up to her neck, fingers lightly caressing the goosebumps which were still there. "Why are you getting so nervous?" He asked.

Hermione bit her bottom lip and squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head emphatically at his question, which only caused him to chuckle again.

"It's just that you can't help but make me wonder…" he added in that soft and gentle murmur, hand still caressing her neck, though she felt his face move slightly away from hers. He paused and she felt one his fingers softly trace a sensitive area of her neck, causing her to shiver, before he gave what seemed like an almost triumphant chuckle.

Hermione's eyes shot open and she finally forced herself to look up at him. His expression was blank, except for the obvious calculation in his dark eyes. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting to see, but after taking in his expression, feelings she couldn't really define rushed through her. Frustration? Annoyance? _Perhaps you're disappointed_, a part of her mocked. She quickly dismissed such a ridiculous notion and squared her shoulders. _Of course he was merely playing with her! _Why on earth did she even let it bother her?

"I could help you…" he trailed off quietly, his eyes trained on hers, watching her intently.

It made her feel embarrassed that he thought that he could manipulate her in a way which he had obviously used on girls before her. Did he disregard her intelligence that easily? She honestly thought that after all of their discussions on magical theory, as well as other topics, that he had at least _acknowledged _her as being more intelligent than most. _That _was what made her feel the most furious and embarrassed – not the fact that his attentions were a calculated act and how he probably treated most women he wanted something from. Well, that's was she determinedly told herself, anyway. She felt so foolish even allowing his physical closeness to affect her in such a way.

Hermione straightened, not breaking eye contact with him. "Oh, I don't think you could help me," she replied coolly.

His eyes, if possible, darkened; an unknown emotion passing through them. Hermione couldn't and, at this point in time, didn't want to try and understand whatever he was feeling. Why did his reaction make her feel like they were currently talking about much more than her project?

"If you could excuse me," she said in that same cold, quiet and sure tone, "I need to get back to work."

As she stepped around him and their bodies brushed lightly against each other as she moved away, Hermione didn't even notice the way his eyes never left her form, as she walked away from him.

Later that day, as she replayed the events that had transpired between the two of them in her head, for what felt like the hundredth time, she realised that Tom Riddle had made the mistake – whether by choice or not – of dropping some of his precious act around her. A few years ago this would have frightened her, but now all it made her realise was that she had suddenly gained something in a relationship which had previously felt unbalanced.

* * *

><p>Minerva was waiting at the front gates for Hermione when she finally arrived on Saturday. The two young women greeted each other excitedly before they began their walk up to the castle.<p>

"Professor Dumbledore is just in a meeting with Headmaster Dippet, though he said just to take tea in the Transfiguration classroom and he'd be with you shortly." Minerva explained as they went through the castle entrance doors.

Hermione nodded, although her attention may have been worth nought. She was too busy taking in the surroundings of the beloved school which was so familiar to her, yet at the same time, felt so different in this time period.

Hermione couldn't help but compare the students of the forties to those of her generation. All of the students seemed to be dressed so impeccably. The girls all had their hair perfectly coiffed, whilst the boys all looked as though their pants were neatly pressed and ironed. Hermione was again reminded of how much she missed the casualness of the nineties. She remembered running around Hogwarts in jeans, sneakers and comfortable jumpers. Clothing that was practical and comfortable. She couldn't imagine how much time most of these girls spent on their hair each morning.

They finally reached the Transfiguration classroom and made their way into a back area which appeared to be Professor Dumbledore's office. She then turned to Minerva and couldn't stop the large grin from spreading across her face knowing that she would eventually become her Professor and Head of House.

"Tea?" Minerva asked as they made their way out the back into the teacher office.

"Sure," Hermione replied, looking around and recognising many of Dumbledore's trinkets spinning and whirling in the office. "Where's your office?" Hermione asked and turned and watched Minerva magically prepare them tea.

"Oh, you mean the broom closet masquerading as an office?" she replied with good nature. "It's just down the hall, I was actually lucky to get an office, being a teacher's assistant and all. They said if I cleaned the room up myself I could use it."

Hermione nodded and sat down across from Minerva, adding some sugar to her tea and taking one of the pieces of apple tea cake that had obviously been sent up from the kitchens. They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments as they enjoyed their afternoon tea before Hermione remembered something she wanted to tell Minerva.

"So Alphard stopped by the shop," Hermione began casually, eyeing Minerva to see her response.

Minerva immediately sat up straighter and gave a nonchalant shrug. "Oh?"

"Yes. Apparently you aren't talking to him," Hermione replied.

"Oh! that no good…! I can't believe he went and complained to _you. _That is so inappropriate of him!"

"Well I suppose his request of putting in a good word in has failed before I even really began," Hermione replied. "And to be fair, he didn't complain to me… I think he was hoping I would see his side of things."

Minerva merely replied with some nonsensical mutterings and insults about her Slytherin suitor.

Hermione gave an amused sigh, "Don't be so hard on him; he seems to absolutely adore you…Of course it's in his own sneaky and conniving way."

Minerva glared at her, "Don't tell me you're now on his side?"

Hermione put her hands up in self-defence, "He was the one that came and spoke to me. _Anyway_, I thought that everything was okay after my birthday night… He did go and say goodbye to you and all, and, er, I saw the two of you… you know, outside the bathrooms?" Hermione awkwardly added.

Minerva blushed so heavily Hermione wondered if smoke was going to start emitting from her ears. "He asked me to go away with him for a weekend…"

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "And are you?"

Minerva looked somewhat scandalised, "No!"

"Oh?"

"We're – we're not even engaged Hermione! It's entirely inappropriate!"

Hermione blushed. She kept forgetting about the different standards in this time. In her time, no one even batted an eye lid about her and Ron living together before they were engaged. _Ron…_ She had been trying not to dwell too much on Ron as it just caused her to get upset. She usually managed to get through the days without missing him too much. The nights were the most difficult, when she had to go to bed alone, no one to give her any affection or be intimate with… _"You just seem so alone" _Riddle's words suddenly played in her mind without warning, causing Hermione to take a quick, shuddering breath. Minerva looked at her in slight alarm.

"Oh Hermione, I wasn't yelling at you… sorry, I know you meant no harm by it," Minerva apologised, obviously taking Hermione's sad look as one of offence.

"Oh no, Minerva, I wasn't upset at you… I was just a bit distracted that's all," Hermione replied quickly.

"Oh… are you alright?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine… I was just thinking, don't worry about it."

Minerva gave her a comforting smile and didn't push the subject, which Hermione was thankful for. She had felt so confused lately and couldn't understand what was wrong with her. Ever since her birthday she had felt so incredibly off kilter.

"So is that all Alphard was there for?"

"Well, he actually came to see if I was okay…. I kind of stormed out of my birthday, after you left," Hermione replied awkwardly, and a bit embarrassed about the entire matter.

"You what? Why?" Minerva looked at her in surprise.

"Well… I caught Malfoy talking to Alex-"

Minerva held up her hand quickly, "Say no more, I'm pretty sure if Malfoy was talking it wasn't nice – or particularly intelligent for that matter."

Hermione rolled her eyes and grinned in agreement. It was almost comforting to know that Draco Malfoy's ancestors seemed to be just as dim-witted as she believed he was.

"So Alex knows you're a muggleborn now I take it?" Minerva asked.

"Er, not exactly…" Hermione replied awkwardly, looking down at her cup of tea.

"Hermione!"

"What?" Hermione replied defensively, "I _did _yell at them… it all just happened so fast. Anyway, Alphard knows that I am a muggleborn – well, he actually guessed," Hermione blushed somewhat, "And I told him that I have no romantic interest in Alex – I don't think he'll be bothering me again anyway. Especially after the serve I gave him and then told Alphard that I am not interested."

"Let's hope for your sake he is… I'm surprised he's even pursuing it, considering his engagement to June Parkinson is to be announced shortly,"

Hermione shrugged, she didn't care one way or the other. "Maybe he was looking for an escape?"

Minerva scoffed, "This is something that's probably been planned since they were children. Merlin, the way that awful bint used to trail around after him at school like a lost puppy – she was one of the… well one of Walburga's little gang…" Minerva trailed off, a sudden morbid look on her face.

Hermione gave Minerva a sympathetic look; she recalled what Minerva had told her about what had happened in her final year. She had been poisoned – most likely by Walburga – because of rumours about her and Alphard.

"I met her the other night you know," Hermione said, "If it's any consolation she seems really daft," Hermione tried to joke.

"The stupid ones are sometimes the most dangerous," Minerva muttered absentmindedly before looking at her. "How did you meet her anyway?"

"Er…" Hermione suddenly felt guilty for saying she was at dinner with Riddle. She wasn't sure why, it wasn't like she had asked him, he had just invited himself along! "I was at dinner," she said awkwardly, "with Riddle…" she muttered the last part and looked sideways.

"You were at dinner with _Riddle_? _Why_?"

Hermione couldn't stop her cheeks from flushing. "It was nothing, really," She looked up at Minerva, who seemed sceptical and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"What's going on with the two of you?" She asked.

"Nothing, I already told you-"

"Yes, yes, I heard you. But you have to admit, he does seem to be around you… _a lot_,"

"Well he was lending me a very valuable book, but I've finished reading it anyway." Hermione explained feeling very defensive, though Minerva still looked incredibly disbelieving.

Minerva's reaction made her think of Alphard's earlier warning, as well as the look that was shared between both Alphard and Minerva regarding Riddle pulling her out of the way from Alex's wayward curse. She wondered if it was a good idea to ask Minerva what her thoughts were on Riddle. Whilst Alphard hadn't really been forthcoming in his suspicions of the Slytherin heir and Hermione _knew _deep-down what kind of person he was, she was still extremely curious to see if anyone else suspected who Tom Riddle was.

"Minerva, what issue do you and Alphard have with Tom Riddle? I tried asking Alphard the other day but he didn't give much light on the whole thing," she finally asked.

Minerva shrugged, "It's nothing really… I mean don't you have a boyfriend?"

Hermione wasn't buying it. "Minerva… I know you both know something. Just tell me! Please, I won't say anything. If anything, I am pretty sure I know what kind of person Riddle is,"

Minerva let out a frustrated breath, before looking at Hermione again. "Okay, look, there's no real proof but I can't help but get a bad feeling about it all being linked somehow…"

"Linked? What's linked?"

"I think Tom Riddle knew about Alphard and I. Not long before I was poisoned," an anguished look crossed her face, "I think Tom might have caught us out – we were always _so _careful, but there was just _one time _where I am absolutely sure he saw something. Then suddenly, Walburga is throwing accusations around about the two of us… you add it up." Her tone was bitter by the end of her explanation.

"You think Tom told Walburga about the two of you?"

Minerva shrugged and worried her bottom lip. "You know, I never really took much notice of Tom Riddle before it happened. What I mean to say is that he was a year below me and in a different house. Sure, everyone knew who he was… the perfect, handsome, kind and intelligent prefect," There was a slight mocking tone to Minerva's voice as she recited the last part. "Then when Alphard and I grew close, Alphard had made some small comments about Tom and some of his suspicions about what he and his friends got up to. So I guess I started to take notice and when I did it just actually scared me what I saw. There was such a level of coldness there, you know? I was just so… _shocked_. Could anyone else – besides Alphard - see what I could see? Or more importantly, why _couldn't _they see it? Are we that superficial?"

"Most people are, unfortunately," Hermione interjected as Minerva took a breath.

"After I thought he had found us out, I was worried. Of all people to catch the muggleborn Gryffindor and Alphard Black it had to be the Slytherin prefect, right?" She huffed a laugh. "So I kept watch and began to notice that he was watching us… always with that coldness and something else which I couldn't really pin point. Then, after I got poisoned he just had this _look_. Whilst I know that it wasn't his hand, how did Walburga find out? Where would someone as daft as her get such a potion? Do I sound as though I am over-thinking things?"

Hermione shook her head quickly. "No, of course not! You're not Minerva. And you're not the only one who sees through it. He does know about you both, you're right. He told me he knew you were a couple."

"Wait, he _told _you?"

"Well, we both saw you two on the night of my birthday," Hermione looked away awkwardly. "He already knew…"

"I knew it!" she exclaimed, sounding vindicated.

"Well unfortunately you'll probably never be able to prove your theory about the poisoning," Hermione said, "And whilst I believe you have a good point, what if he _didn't _actually have anything to do with it? What if Walburga simply caught you out? Like you said, it is the stupid ones who can sometimes cause the most damage."

Before the two young women could continue their discussion, the door creaked open and Dumbledore appeared, blue eyes twinkling, "Hermione, are you ready to meet my friend?"

* * *

><p>After Minerva had excused herself, Hermione found herself seated across from Dumbledore as he quietly sorted through some parchment on his desk. He looked up from his work and smiled at her.<p>

"I dare say he shouldn't be too long," Dumbledore announced as he set the parchment aside and clasped his hands together on the desk.

"Who is he?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough," he replied cryptically, obviously enjoying the mystery of it all with her.

"Do you really think he can help me?" Hermione asked.

"I hope so. I haven't gone too much into your situation with him; I thought that you would be the best person to explain your situation."

Hermione simply smiled in response just as the floo system activated. Quickly looking over towards the fireplace, she watched as a man stepped out, checking his robes to ensure their cleanliness.

The man was tall, and looked to be about the same age as Dumbledore. Where Dumbledore's hair still held traces of Auburn, this man's hair was black, with lots of grey streaked through. Tall and lean, with a strong jawline, Hermione concluded that the man appeared quite distinguished and important. She wondered what part of the Ministry he worked in. Perhaps he was an Unspeakable too?

"Albus," the man greeted before turning his attention to Hermione, "And you must be Miss Edwards?"

Hermione nodded as he pulled up a chair next to her and made himself comfortable.

"Thank you for sparing your time Phineas," Dumbledore replied happily. "Hermione, it's my pleasure to introduce you to Phineas Black."

Hermione's jaw dropped open in surprise, "Wait, did you just say _Black_?"

The man she now knew as Phineas Black turned and smirked at her. "Why yes… Formerly part of the _wonderful _ancient house of Black… etcetera, etcetera…" he waved his pale, long-fingered hands in the air nonchalantly.

"Formerly?" Hermione questioned, and looked between the two men who shared a look of amusement before Phineas turned his attention back to her.

"I was disowned," he answered, without a care in the world. "Quite some time ago, I might add,"

"Oh." Hermione replied, eyebrows furrowing in thought. She wanted to ask him why he had been disowned of course, but didn't want to be rude. However Phineas seemed more than comfortable explaining it to her.

"I was disowned in one of the only ways a Black can be – other than for being a squib, of course – I support muggles and muggleborns, and had no interest in continuing the rather incestuous, inbred ways of my former family," he explained rather calmly, with a handsome smile on his face.

"Oh," Hermione repeated. She suddenly felt rather stupid and blushed as he eyed her in an amused manner. Trying to redeem herself she cleared her throat, "So, er, what part of the Ministry are you in?"

It annoyed her that he shared another amused look with Dumbledore before turning back to her. "The Ministry?" He questioned in an almost incredulous manner. "Oh no, I have nothing to do with the Ministry."

"I'm sorry, I guess I just assumed…" Hermione trailed off.

"Quite alright," he replied.

Dumbledore smiled at the two of them. "Hermione, Phineas works completely independent of the Ministry… funded by those who believe that the Ministry cannot answer everything – nor should they have access to everything,"

"So… it's some kind of private, er, _contract_ work?" Hermione guessed.

"Somewhat…" Dumbledore replied. "Though not really. Phineas began as an apprentice, a few years after his graduation from Hogwarts. He is the only one who works full-time on the project. The rest of us meet once every six months to discuss matters of interest, any potential political issues and so on,"

Phineas continued where Dumbledore finished off. "The Ministry, whilst having some areas I am not too critical of – I actually spent a few years working in the Ministry before being offered the Apprenticeship – are too caught up in their own self-interest to involve in any of the independent work I conduct. It's too risky with changing governments and leaders to involve them. If someone was to gain power that was corrupt, well, it would put all of our work at risk."

Hermione quickly nodded in agreement, remembering Fudge and cronies like Umbridge. Not to mention the Death Eaters who infiltrated the Ministry during Voldemort's two attempts to rise into power.

"We also deal very closely with the muggle world. There are several private muggle groups – similar to ours – which prefer to stay independent of their own states and governments. The Ministry still, unfortunately, has too much influence from the old pureblood families to involve them in anything we do." He continued to explain.

Hermione soaked up all of this information with immense interest. She had never heard of such an project or person, which was understandable considering where she worked.

"How do you deal with the muggle world? The Ministry deals with the British muggle government…"

"No. We don't deal with governments… we deal with the people behind the government; businesses, private organisations. The royal family is also aware of us and I deal with them quite often-"

"_The British royal family? _But wasn't the secrecy statute created because the royal family couldn't pass muggle laws to protect wizards?"

"Yes, that was a rather undesirable time for one of my predecessors… But my position dates back centuries. In fact, it originated as an advisory position to the royal family and then expanded and developed as time passed. As you may be aware, since the introduction of the Statute, the Ministry has placed less and less importance on our linkages with the muggle world. Don't get me wrong, the separation between our two worlds is incredibly important. But in our moves to invoke such secrecy, certain history and traditions have fallen by the side with the Ministry. I act as caretaker of very important historical information and ensure it's not forgotten."

Hermione stared at him in amazement. She suddenly wanted to know every, little thing that Phineas knew. He'd have access not only to what was publicly available to the wizarding world but valuable books and information that was probably centuries old and long forgotten by the Ministry.

"So, as you can understand Hermione, we'd prefer Phineas to help you rather than request assistance from the Ministry," Dumbledore interjected.

"Well, it all depends on what she needs help with…" Phineas replied before turning all of his attention towards Hermione.

Hermione looked to Dumbledore who nodded in encouragement. She took a deep breath and decided to start from beginning…

* * *

><p>"I can see why the Ministry shouldn't be assisting you," Phineas concluded as Hermione finished explaining her situation.<p>

"But are you able to help me?" Hermione asked.

Phineas shrugged, "That remains to be seen. Is there anything more you can tell me about the woman who spoke to you in the Veil?"

"Well, no. I didn't recognise her at all, and she didn't tell me who she was either,"

Phineas sat there, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the arm of his chair. "Well, there is one thing that I could suggest, though I'm not sure if you'd be comfortable with it…"

Hermione's eyebrows rose in interest. She could think of very few things she wouldn't be willing to do to try and get home. "What did you have in mind?"

"Would you mind if I performed legilimency? Perhaps if I can view your memory of the matter it might assist me more." He asked.

Hermione looked from Phineas to Dumbledore. Dumbledore, despite Hermione being aware that he was an expert in legilimency, had not attempted to look into her mind as yet – well, not that she was aware of anyway. She suddenly wondered why that was.

"Professor, why didn't you perform legilimency on me?" She asked, instead of answering Phineas straight away.

Dumbledore looked from her to Phineas. "Well, to be honest, I did not think that I would need to go to such lengths, nor did I believe that I would recognise the woman. I also could tell that you were telling the truth so I felt no need to do such a thing. Legilimency is not something I take lightly, Hermione, and looking into what is essentially part of someone's psyche is an incredibly personal thing. Though, I think you should seriously consider Phineas's proposition. He is far more skilled than I am – his position requires it."

Hermione, after considering Dumbledore's words for a moment, turned to Phineas, "I'd like to try it," she said.

"Now? Or would you prefer to wait and have a think about it?" he asked.

"What's there to really think about? I mean, I trust that you won't look into things that you aren't meant to. I trust you because Professor Dumbledore obviously trusts you." Hermione replied.

Phineas nodded. "I trust that your experience as an Unspeakable means that you have experience with someone performing this on you?"

Hermione bit back a slight grimace, recalling that rather unpleasant part of her job. "Of course,"

"So would you like to try now?"

"Yes." Hermione replied.

Phineas nodded and moved himself so his chair was now facing towards hers. Hermione did the same so that they were now directly facing one-another. "Now, to make this as comfortable as possible, I need you to relax and keep the memory right at the forefront of your mind. Are you ready?"

Hermione nodded and swallowed heavily, pulling the memory forth and concentrating. Phineas moved closer to her and she felt his hands grip her chin. He then directly looked into her eyes, causing Hermione to initially – as a subconscious reaction – break eye contact.

"You must keep eye contact," Phineas ordered at her slight.

She moved her eyes back, and grimaced. "Sorry, I must admit I'm not a huge fan of this," she explained.

"Understandable." He muttered, holding her stare.

Hermione concentrated, and pulled the memory back to the forefront of her mind after the initial distraction. At her look of concentration, Phineas gave a small nod of approval.

"Very good." He stated, almost absentmindedly.

At first it was like a gently prod; one could almost liken the feeling to a light breeze. She had to admit he was much gentler than those at the Ministry when she was undergoing her training. She suddenly felt him there, and in a rather placid manner, he swirled around the memory she was purposely pushing. Suddenly, he pulled out, a look of frustration clear on his face.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"I don't understand…" Phineas muttered.

"What did you find Phineas?" Dumbledore prodded.

Phineas looked at them both, a hint of confusion in his eyes, "The memory… it was incredibly distorted. It was as though it had been tampered with – but not in the traditional sense that memory charms can be performed. Hermione, would you mind if I tried again?"

"Sure," Hermione replied.

She felt him enter her mind again, this time a bit more forcefully than the prior attempt. She cringed slightly as she felt him pushing at the same memory, putting more concentration into viewing it. But before she knew it, he had pulled out again – the frustration very clear on his face.

"You can clearly view it? What I mean to say is, do you notice any distortion with the image?" He asked Hermione.

Hermione nodded. She was able to see it as clear as day, so why couldn't he? She explained as much to him, which only made Phineas purse his lips in annoyance.

"What do you think, Phineas?" Dumbledore asked.

Phineas sighed. "I think it might be some kind of… _hybrid_ of a memory charm – if that makes any sense? I can't help but think that whoever it was who sent Hermione here didn't want anyone to see who they were,"

"Except I can?" Hermione interjected.

"Correct," Phineas answered. "The magic can't really penetrate your psyche in that way. I suspect she wasn't too worried because _you _obviously had no idea who she was, but that someone else would."

Hermione felt her stomach drop. _Fan-bloody-tastic! _This was just too typical. _Of course_ there would be some kind of hurdle in her way when she had finally found someone – other than Dumbledore – with the expertise to help her.

"Care to draw us a picture then, Hermione?" Dumbledore piped up from his desk, a small smile of amusement on his face.

Hermione huffed. This was no joking matter! Whilst she loved her old Headmaster, she suddenly wondered how Harry had put up with his somewhat ambiguous ways. Merlin, forget Harry, what about Professor Snape? Realising that she was going off track with her thoughts on how errant Dumbledore could be she sucked in a breath and looked at Phineas.

"Try again." Hermione demanded as she stared at him with determination.

* * *

><p>"Mate, you need to give up," Alphard announced, after taking a sip of his firewhiskey, and looked around the Leaky Cauldron. It was a busy night. Unsurprising really, it was a Saturday after all.<p>

"Give up? What are you talking about?" Abraxas asked as he downed the last of his own shot.

"I wasn't talking to you, you git," Alphard replied mildly, which earned a mock glare from his blonde friend.

"Give up on what?" Alex finally replied.

"More like _who_…" Abraxas muttered, causing Alex to give him a sharp look.

"Hermione, of course," Alphard replied plainly. "You haven't a chance, mate."

Alex rolled his eyes and then looked at Alphard. "Thank you for your vote of confidence, _friend._"

"I'm being serious. It is best you stop now, before you make a complete fool of yourself. And that's what friends do for one another – we warn each another when they're about to make idiots of themselves." Alphard relpied and watched as Alex huffed.

"I don't understand your fascination Alex; you don't even know her family history." Abraxas added.

"I know enough," Alex muttered in a sulky tone, looking down at his drink moodily, causing Alphard to think of a spoiled five year old who wasn't given the toy they wanted.

"Hardly!" Abraxas scoffed.

"Well how do you explain the magical home-schooling? Not to mention the _other _things that Dolohov and the others had mentioned!" Alex sneered back. "She's at least a half-blood!"

"Salazar, will you _listen _to yourself? A half-blood?" Abraxas half yelled, earning a glare from his two friends as well as a couple of curious stares from some of the other patrons surrounding them.

"Show a bit more discretion, Abraxas," Alphard warned quietly as he looked around the bar, not wishing to draw the ire of any non-pureblooded wizards because of Abraxas and his big mouth.

"Still! What is the fascination with this girl? You're parents are getting ready to announce your formal engagement to June very soon! The Parkinson family are well-respected... You did well getting June. She's not too awful on the eye either," Abraxas reasoned.

Alex rolled his eyes. "You have _got _to be kidding me. June Parkinson is hideous-"

"Won't argue with you there," Alphard interjected with a smirk, before allowing Alex to continue.

"I don't even know how I'd go to bed with such a creature, let alone produce any heirs! Mother and Father have no idea what they are expecting of me. At least they fell in love with one-another. There is no way I could love someone as daft as June Parkinson."

"So you think Hermione Edwards is the answer to your problems?" Alphard asked with an incredulous tone.

"Well, she's pretty, intelligent and can hold herself with anyone by the look of it… she's so _different _to the girls we went to school with. She seems to actually know what's going on outside of a Twilfit and Tattings catalogue."

Alphard raised his eyebrows in surprise. He'd never heard his friend give much thought on a girl. Then again, Alex had never really had to work for a girl before, so perhaps it was some weird 'thrill of the chase' for him. Even though Alphard really liked Hermione and could see why blokes would like her in a romantic sense, the little pedestal Alex had inadvertently placed her on was surprising.

Alphard could only guess that whilst Alex did really like Hermione, he was also looking for an escape route from marrying June Parkinson. Perhaps he thought that if he got Hermione, his parents wouldn't make him marry June.

"She's got a boyfriend, though," Alphard said.

"And I don't care what you lot say, her parentage is still not really known!" Abraxas quickly repeated.

But Alphard noted that Alex did not appear to be listening to Abraxas. "Boyfriend? He's never even come to visit her according to Skeeter. What kind of boyfriend do you call that?"

Both Alphard and Abraxas rolled their eyes. This was impossible.

"I only have one bit of advice for you," Abraxas began.

"Which is?" Alex finally gave Abraxas some attention.

"Purebloods are for marrying, half-bloods are for shagging." He announced with an arrogant smirk.

Alphard shook his head. "Abraxas, you really are pathetic…"

"What?" Abraxas exclaimed. "It's a perfectly acceptable saying!"

"For you." Alphard retorted. "Honestly, the way you carry on sometimes, Abraxas… hardly the behaviour of a gentlemen is it?" He added as he eyed his friend.

"What?" Abraxas looked at him as if he didn't understand how crude he was being.

Alphard didn't respond. Sometimes he wondered about Abraxas and how long he could continue listening to his inappropriate diatribes. They'd known each other for as long as Alphard could remember, but sometimes his friend made him feel so _trapped_. Alex wasn't as bad as Abraxas, but they both constantly reminded him of the life that was expected of him, not the life he actually wanted. The life he wanted was with Minerva, but that looked to be nothing but hopeless. Before he could send himself into too much of a depression, Abraxas interrupted his thoughts again.

"Well Alex, if it isn't your little dream girl coming out of the floo," Abraxas announced, causing Alex to quickly turn his chair and almost fall off it.

Alphard looked up and sure enough, Hermione Edwards had stumbled through the fireplace, looking quite pale and tired. He furrowed his brows in concentration wondering what was wrong with her as she stood by the floo, obviously waiting for someone. He wondered who she was waiting for. Suddenly the fireplace lit up again and out stepped a very familiar figure…

"Hey Alphard, isn't that your Great Uncle the blood traitor?" Abraxas asked as they watched Phineas Black escort an obviously exhausted looking Hermione through the Leaky Cauldron.

Alphard simply nodded, wondering what Hermione was doing with his Great Uncle and why she looked so pale and sickly. He watched his Great Uncle place an arm around her shoulders to keep her from knocking into the other patrons in the rather packed pub, and directed her through.

"What's wrong with her?" Alex sounded concerned as he watched them leave the building.

"Not sure…" Alphard replied. His questions surrounding Hermione suddenly expanded by tenfold. His friends had no idea who his Uncle was, but Alphard knew. Just what sort of project was she working on?

* * *

><p>"Excuse me, but do you have any new books in on Memory Charm theory at the moment?" Hermione politely asked the front counter clerk at Flourish and Blotts.<p>

After she received directions she thanked the shop assistant and made her way through the crowded shop towards the back.

After what had turned into a gruelling legilimency session in Dumbledore's office on Saturday, with still no luck on Phineas's behalf, they had parted ways with Phineas promising to look into his extensive library for an answer and get back to her as soon as possible. They had even tried to view the memory in a pensieve, with still no luck. But Phineas had managed to chide her for listening to someone who seemed as "idiotic" as Zacharius Smith. _'Obviously the requirements for becoming an Unspeakable have significantly lowered over the years!' _He had sniffed, causing Hermione to huff indignantly and state that _she _was an Unspeakable too.

Therefore, hoping that maybe she could help Phineas, Hermione had decided to do a bit of her own further research on memory charms until she heard anything from him. Of course, she was already well versed on the theory behind an _Obliviate_, but Hermione had decided that she wanted to reacquaint herself with any information available (one could never be too prepared). She also wanted to see if there was much theoretical information on reversing modified memory charms; especially one which distorted the actual _vision _of the memory – which was quite different from the memory charms she had performed in the past.

She rounded another corner in the store and silently cursed the narrow, crowded aisles. Since she had been working at Knights, the aisles had become much easier to navigate as Hermione slowly worked her way through sorting out all of the books. She was very proud of her achievement, a sense of satisfaction overtaking her whenever she remembered the disarray that the shop was in when she first started there.

Finally making it to the back area of the shop, where the Memory Charm books were supposed to be, she was annoyed to hear what sounded like incessant, girly giggling. Hermione rolled her eyes. _Honestly, what an annoying laugh! _She thought to herself.

Rounding the corner, she almost groaned out loud when she spotted Tom Riddle speaking to the source of all the incessant giggling. Quickly stepping back behind one the shelves, she cursed under her breath. _Of course!_ _Merlin forbid going one week without seeing his smug face!_

Surprisingly, it had almost been a week since she had seen Tom. After their weird 'moment' in the shop, he hadn't stopped by to annoy her nor had she ran into him in Diagon Alley. She was actually wondering if he had given up after her rather rude rebuttal to his advances in finding out more about her project.

The girl laughed loudly again, causing Hermione to suddenly pay attention and listen to their conversation.

"Oh Tom, you really are too much! We really should catch up more often," the incessant giggler exclaimed, causing Hermione to roll her eyes.

"Well Holly, it is wonderful to see how well you're doing," Riddle replied in what Hermione thought was a sickly sweet tone, "Life must be treating you well."

"Oh it is! Tom, you must come to dinner one day at our house. I know Father has some items of historic value that you'd no doubt be interested in… Actually, I just remembered! Mother is having a small soiree very soon. The Minister will probably be there, of course," She replied and Hermione detected the smugness in her tone at the mention of the Minister.

"That's very kind of you Holly," Tom replied, Hermione rolling her eyes as she detected the false modesty in his voice.

This style of conversation continued on for several minutes, causing Hermione to groan quietly and bang her head lightly on the bookshelf beside her in exasperation. What was _wrong _with these girls? Hermione suddenly felt extremely embarrassed as she reminded of her own 'moment' with Riddle the other day… how utterly insulting that he seemed to put her in the same category as these clueless bints. The more she thought about it, mixed with listening to his conversation with the incessant giggler, Hermione found herself becoming angrier by the second.

Tired of waiting for their conversation to end, Hermione squared her shoulders, walked out from behind the shelf and towards them. Of course neither of them noticed her, something which, for some reason, annoyed her even more as she approached them. When she was finally within a couple of feet, Tom looked up from his conversation and the spark of recognition crossed his face before he settled on a rather arrogant smirk.

"Hello Hermione," Riddle greeted, his eyes intently fixed on her, causing her to flush. Trying to desperately ignore this traitorous response from her body, she quickly turned her attention away from him and to the incessant giggler, now known as _Holly_, who was eyeing Hermione in what looked like a disdainful manner.

"Riddle," Hermione replied primly, as she stopped before them.

Tom raised his eyebrows in what looked like amusement at her greeting. "I'm surprised to see you here," he said as he watched her.

"Why?" She asked.

"Well, you're shopping at the competition,"

Hermione cocked an eyebrow. "So?"

Before Tom could answer, the girl, Holly, made a rather obvious coughing noise causing both Hermione and Tom to turn their attention towards her.

"I don't believe we've met?" Holly said, looking at Hermione.

"Of course, where are my manners?" Tom interjected humbly, "Holly, this is Hermione Edwards. Hermione, this is Holly Fudge."

Hermione had to stop herself from snorting out loud. Was this girl related to the incompetent Cornelius Fudge? As she pondered the matter, she stared at the girl, looking for any resemblance to the Minister (though it was quite futile). Turning her attention to both Tom and Holly, she realised that she obviously hadn't hidden her sniggering as discreetly as she initially thought. Tom eyed her with a curious expression, whilst Holly did nothing short of glare at her.

"Er, nice to meet you Holly," Hermione replied, hoping to smooth over the awkward atmosphere she had created.

"Charmed, I'm sure…" she replied with a haughty air as she looked Hermione up and down, discreetly sneering at her, obviously not wanting Tom to notice.

If Hermione hadn't already ruined things with her less than secretive sniggering, she would have rolled her eyes at the other witch. As if she cared what that giggling cow thought of her clothes. Unfortunately, when Hermione gave her own look back she couldn't find any fault with Holly Fudge. Hair perfectly coiffed, fashionable robes and immaculately groomed, she was your typical pureblood princess. Well, she shouldn't be surprised really. Suddenly realising that Holly was talking to Riddle again, Hermione tuned back into the conversation.

"- Mother's soiree will be celebrating Cornelius's promotion of course. It would be wonderful if you could come along Tom," She babbled on, before sending Hermione a condescending look. "_Everyone _will be there."

But before Tom could answer Hermione decided she had had enough of this rather pretentious display. She wanted to go look at the books, anyway. She didn't have time to waste with the likes of such shallowness.

"Well," Hermione began, clearing her throat obviously, "As _pleasant_ as this has been, I really must find those books."

Tom eyed her with amusement, which caught the attention of the giggling cow, who was now openly glaring at having her precious attention taken away. _How pathetic,_ Hermione thought with annoyance. Were all girls that stupid around Tom Riddle? And to think that he had treated her with the same manipulative 'charm' he pulled on these bints just a few days ago! It was almost too insulting to think about. Well, she certainly wasn't going to stand around witnessing these pathetic displays.

"Have a lovely day," she smiled sweetly at the two of them and squeezed her way past them and continued towards the back of the store, still reeling at Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Not that he had actually done _anything_… for once. He was just annoying. Plain and simple. Always there with his stupid charming act and perfect, 'innocent' good looks. Great Godric, she almost couldn't wait for the day where he became the snake faced Voldemort she had been familiar with. That would show those silly girls who he really was, since they really were stupid enough to focus on his looks alone.

She huffed as she finally found the Memory Charm section. Searching through the books, she finally found one which looked a bit more advanced than the usual fare. Flicking through the pages, she was so engrossed she didn't even hear anyone approach until a hand moved over her shoulder plucking the book straight from her fingertips.

"Oi-" she began, spinning around, before Tom Riddle interrupted her.

"Memory Charms?" he asked, as he looked over the page she had just been reading.

Hermione resisted the urge to smack him; though she couldn't help the start her body gave at being snuck up on.

"Sorry, did I scare you?" he smirked at her.

"No." Hermione scowled, and went to grab her book back, though he obviously anticipated her move and held the book up out of her reach, causing her to groan in annoyance as she stood on the tips of her toes trying to reach it. Damn him for being so tall.

"So, Memory Charms? Is this part of your project too?"

"Give me my book back, Riddle," Hermione glared at him.

"But it's not your book, _Hermione_, you'd have to buy it for it to be yours," he smirked and waved the book in her face, pulling it high above her head again as she tried to grab it out of his hands.

"Well maybe I do fully intend on buying it, for your information! Now give it back right now!"

Tom gave her a satisfied smirk, though Hermione had no idea why. Handing her the book back he pushed it into her hands, their fingers brushing lightly.

"Since you've used such wonderful manners asking for it back," he said sarcastically as he gave it back.

"You don't deserve it!" she huffed at him and clutched the book close to her chest.

He suddenly took a step towards her, which automatically made her take a step backwards, causing her to stumble into the bookshelf. Trying to regain her footing she looked up only in time to see that he had boxed her into the shelves, both arms on either side of her as he leaned over her.

"What are you doing?" Hermione gasped, as she felt herself warm all over.

"Why are you always so suspicious Hermione? Especially around me… you're always so quick to think the worst of me – yet no one else gets that treatment." He murmured, his eyes intense.

Hermione stayed silent for a few moments, trying to fully gauge the situation. Looking down at her shoes and then looking back up at him, she felt trapped – both physically and mentally. Trying not to look at his face, as he was far too close for comfort, she turned her head to the side. She flushed in embarrassment as she realised how much his looks affected her. But she was not one of those stupid girls! And yet here he was _still_ treating her like one.

"I-I'm not one of _those _girls," Hermione muttered, chancing a glance at him, only to see his expression change from one of intensity to faint amusement.

"One of those girls?" he questioned, a faux look of confusion on his face.

"You know what I'm talking about."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, before he lifted one of his hands and ran it gently through her hair. Hermione's eyes widened and she couldn't help but shiver as she felt his fingers move gently across her scalp, careful not to snag his fingers on her bushy hair.

"Oh," he finally said, deeply concentrating on her hair. Hermione could only imagine how bushy it was getting under his scrutiny. His face got that intense look again as she felt him wrap his hands around a section of hair, tugging on it lightly.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, voice cracking.

He observed her quietly before tugging lightly on her hair so her head was slightly pulled back to stare directly at him. "I know you're not like other girls," he finally murmured, "You've got far too many secrets for the average girl…"

Hermione swallowed thickly, now staring at him. "They're _my_ secrets." she finally whispered.

His eyes darkened dangerously and Hermione felt shamefully weak as she continued looking at him. There was something in the air that she couldn't really explain, but she knew it was _him._ She had felt his magic before, but for the first time the feel of it suddenly made her understand Voldemort in a way she never had before. She now understood why people chose to blindly follow him, why he was able to command such a presence.

She could feel him wash over her; he was all around her, demanding everything, and she shuddered in response, unable to control her reactions anymore. His gaze intensified as he felt her reaction, his magic contracting around her, filling up the entire space around them. Her breathing deepened as his head dropped down to hers, his nose only centimetres from hers. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut in both fear and an emotion she was not ready to label with _him _of all people. His magic intensified again and she gasped as she felt his warm breath mingle with hers.

"I _will _find out why you're here Hermione. If I want something, I go after it and I _get _it. Do you understand me?" he finally murmured.

Her eyes snapped open, only to see him step back from her, his face almost a blank mask if it weren't for his eyes, which were blazing. He stared at her for a moment, before finally turning on his heel and walking away from her.

This time, it was Hermione who watched him walk away, until he disappeared. The weight of what had just happened truly hit her, and she sunk to her knees, still clutching at her book as though it were a life raft. Everything had suddenly changed. She realised that he had turned the tables, yet again, and there would be no more games played. At the idea of him suddenly dropping his act, she wasn't sure if she was more frightened or relieved.

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><p>Thank you for reviewing ch10: <strong>LadyNorth76, AwesomePersonlolxx, HereToRead84, IchigoBrandana, m0nt, AlwaysthereforTaraxx, Ashi-Grey, sweet-tang-honney, DArk_16EtErnIty_z8, abcdreamer, sKyLaR_KnIgHt, Sara Beatriz, gleeislove, Amethyst Pheonix, Smithback, KoretheMaiden, unknownkitty, trestreschic, Account Currently On Hiatus, LK_HoGwArTs_hEaDgIrL, Mignun, indiat, everlastingtrueromance, FiOnAFiO, MisheardLyrics, Regina Austen, Chamilia_Lutien_Tinuviel, EnuNR_zero, LexKyuubi, Megii_of_Mysteri_OusStranger, Caro09, AvoidedIsland, cocoartist, Dream_a_Dream123, EmeraldGoddess52, Nerys, riotgirl777, DonnaNoir23, marana1, silver screen icon, Lady Miya, TamariChan, Caeliaca, rising of the darkness, Avalon_Valour_Vantrair, Andy Lewis, FadedSunset, Amorgen Lestrange, Serpent In Red, SingsWithWords, wintersalad, kimgeer, BeNeRe, Jen103, Kaien Brief, SummerBreeze3, a_flair_4_the_dramatic and paintmyworlddarkblue.<strong>

**A/N about chapter 11:**

Phineas Black was born sometime between 1877 and 1889. He was blasted from the Black family tree for supporting Muggle rights.

A flashback "reminder" to Chapter 3, the Unspeakables commented that Zacharias's memory was distorted too. I wonder if Phineas will be able to help Hermione?

**Quick note about my other story:**

Er, sorry to those who were expecting an update – especially with the cliff-hanger and all (I know I even said that an update wasn't "too far away" in many review replies for it too). I feel bad about that, but the muse has been terrible and therefore I haven't been able to finish it yet. If Tertius Vita was a racehorse, I would've either shot it or retired it to pony club :-S So apologies, I know I told many of you that an update wasn't too far off, but it's very "off and on" at the moment. I will eventually get it done though, so please bear with me and thank you for continuing to support it.

**Shameless pimping:**

tomioneconvention dot forumotion dot com – A new forum created just for us Tomione/Volmione fans (crazy people that we are). Come and join the fun! Also, I will start replying to anonymous reviews on this forum for my stories :-)


	12. Chapter 12

Hello all, welcome to chapter 12! Sorry about the wait. But we're here now and that's the main thing :)

I'd really like to thank Nerys. Thank you so much for your help, suggestions and feedback regarding this chapter XD

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><p><em>XXX<em>

_You see this writing on the wall / Oh, angel, you see this curtain fall / Good times seem so far away / Just a memory, old and grey / And there was no one like you / You rip apart the clouds in all my days / Others all fade away – The Jezabels (Long Highway)_

_XXX_

Tom had managed to avoid Hermione – purposefully – for a good couple of weeks before he had had that 'run in' with her at Flourish and Blotts. A small smirk appeared on his face as he remembered their confrontation. She really was far too easy to rile up. Of course, it was utterly convenient that Holly Fudge, the insipid bint, was there, whose mere presence alone seemed to have offended Hermione to no end.

Still, he had used that daft girl to marvellous effect. Hermione's reaction, along with the others he had catalogued, continued to be interesting – albeit on a completely different level to finding out her real secrets. Tom had noticed the way her body had reacted recently in his presence, well, it was obvious there was _something _there. Of course, thinking of her reactions reminded him of his own and he immediately scowled. _  
><em>

Besides, while he could still read her physical reactions towards him, why did she have to act so disgusted by it all? Never, in all his experiences with the opposite sex, had he met someone as infuriating as Hermione Edwards. He would never admit that it was slightly disturbing that the one girl he really needed to fall for his charms was the one girl who so obviously wasn't. In fact, she seemed outright offended at pretty much _everything _he did to her. Especially when he stood too close…

'_I-I'm not one of those girls,'_

No, he never actually believed her to be like one of those girls. She was infuriatingly intelligent, after all. But it didn't mean that he didn't want her to _react _like one of those girls. Perhaps he had misread her somewhat? _More like underestimated her control_, he thought. Tom reminded himself that everyone's level of control had a breaking point; it was just a matter of finding hers.

This was why he had acted the way he did towards her. There was no use perpetually pretending around her when it obviously distracted her so much. She had continuously insinuated and hinted that she didn't believe he was showing her his true face. Therefore, he took a risk and revealed some of himself – including his magic – and her response was, well, more telling than all of the previous interactions he had with her.

So he purposely hadn't sought her out again for a good couple of weeks. He needed to regroup and decide what his next movements would be. Although a certain, disobedient part of his mind asked him _what _he exactly wanted from Hermione Edwards. He quickly ignored that question. He was going to solve her mystery, then, pending what the mystery was, either move on or-

His thoughts were rudely interrupted as he looked up and found a woman standing in front of him. Tom was felt somewhat disturbed by this, as he hadn't heard her enter the store, and the fact that he prided himself on being extremely alert and he _definitely _would have heard the woman enter the shop.

"Hello," she said, in a very friendly, light manner.

Tom quickly schooled his features into a blank mask. "Sorry, I didn't hear you enter, forgive my ill manners. How can I help you?"

The woman continued smiling in her light manner. Tom found it made him feel rather uncomfortable. She looked at him almost knowingly.

"I believe a book that you have for sale might be of assistance?" she asked.

"What book would that be?" Tom asked.

"_Magick Most Volatile: Ancient Runes._"

_The book that was sold to Hermione,_ Tom recalled, as he now scrutinised at the rather plain looking, but strange, woman. "I'm sorry, we actually sold that book two months ago," he finally replied, his voice holding an apologetic edge to it.

"Two months is a long time," she replied with a hint of amusement.

Tom almost cocked an eyebrow in interest, but decided to remain stoic. "If I may ask-"

"You may," she interrupted, a large, serene smile on her face.

Tom was disconcerted by the demeanour of the woman. He discreetly moved his hand into his robe pocket and gripped his wand. "What did you need the book for?"

The woman had the audacity to roll her eyes in amusement at him and, instead of telling him what he wanted to know, she merely replied, "Sometimes, if you can't get an answer to your question, you just need to find a new way of asking."

Tom drew his wand quickly. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Manners, Tom," she chided, though she still had that infuriating nonchalant tone the Tom was beginning to despise.

"How do you know my name?" he hissed. This woman had a strange way about her that he just did not like.

The woman merely chuckled, and before Tom could send a curse at her she stepped back from the counter and disappeared. She didn't even Disapperate, it was like she just vanished into thin air. Tom looked at the now empty space in front of him with calculating eyes. He didn't need time to deduce that this all linked back to a certain witch who was becoming more and more of a distraction. Meticulously cataloguing the strange occurrence, a wicked smirk graced his handsome face as he realised he was ready to take action.

* * *

><p>Hermione made her way back to the shop, having spent her afternoon running business-related errands for Valeria. Entering the shop, she heard Tarquin's laughter ringing out through the store. Automatically, a smile graced her face. Tarquin's rather questionable sense of humour never failed to cheer her up. She wondered who was evoking such a reaction from him.<p>

Turning a corner in the shop, she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight in front of her. Almost like a bad déjà vu, Tom Riddle was standing before her with a laughing Tarquin. Tom noticed her before Tarquin did, and a rather amused expression crossed his face. Oh, he was _not_ allowed to look at her like that – especially after what had happened between them the last time. Hermione was still reeling from their confrontation at Flourish and Blotts. _Evil git_, she thought, as she calmly walked over to them.

"Hermione," Riddle greeted as she approached.

"Hello." Hermione greeted the two of them.

"I've got to get back to the front of the shop, but it was nice catching up with you, Tom," Tarquin said.

"You too. Don't forget about my suggestion," Riddle said to Tarquin.

"Nope, drinks sometime sounds like a great idea!" Tarquin replied, and disappeared behind the book shelves with a parting wave to the two of them.

Hermione's eyebrows rose in curiosity, but at the thought of having to ask Riddle anything, she rolled her eyes and continued to the back of the shop. Sitting her bag of groceries down, she turned only to find that Tom had followed her.

"You're exceptionally hostile today," he commented as he made himself comfortable in _her _chair.

Hermione scowled at his sprawling – but elegant – form. It was utterly unfair how he could look so refined even whilst he was acting so casual.

"I've barely even spoken to you today," she snapped at him, still trying to work out what he was up to _this time_.

Tom shrugged his shoulders and motioned his hands in a way that said _'point proven'_.

Hermione glared at him as he began swinging back on her chair, arrogant smirk in place. Hermione was almost tempted to whip out her wand and banish the rear legs so he'd end up sprawling on the ground. Instead she made a gesture for him to move.

"What are you doing tonight?" he suddenly asked.

"I'm busy tonight. Now, can you please move? I have to get back to work."

Tom scoffed, but didn't move. "What are you so busy with?" he asked.

"Not spending time with you, of course," she replied, rolling her eyes, and his eyebrows rose with a faint hint of amusement.

"Why Hermione, you wound me with your harsh words. What have I done to cause that type of response from such a _refined _young lady?" he made it obvious that he was giving her a once-over.

Hermione pursed her lips at his veiled insult. _So what_ if she hadn't really bothered with her hair this morning, and _so what _if it was laundry day and her outfit didn't exactly match.

"Move!" she ground out, pointing her finger.

He gracefully moved from the chair, and before Hermione could step out of his way to allow him to pass, he was standing right infront of her. She attempted to move but his hands quickly shot out and gripped both of her arms, rendering her immobile. She attempted to struggle, but his grip only tightened and his smirk widened.

"Let go of me!" she hissed, her movements jarred, due to his hold on her.

He merely quirked an eyebrow at her, and pulled her against his chest. Hermione breathed in sharply, fear overtaking all of her senses as he leaned down, his face moving to rest at the crook of her neck.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're far too bossy for your own good?" he muttered against her hair.

Hermione's heart almost stopped, not just in surprise, but because of the feeling of Riddle's breath fanning out across her neck and shoulders. She went rigid, unable to move backwards, and too scared to make any more attempts at escaping.

"Is this where you threaten me, again?" she asked. Unfortunately, any semblance of bravery was lost as her voice wavered.

One of his hands lifted and suddenly his wand was there and dragging her hair away from her neck. Hermione shuddered, and in response, Riddle began lightly tracing random, innocuous shapes on her neck. Just as she was about to ask him what he thought he was doing, he finally spoke.

"You're much more fun to deal with like this," Tom purred against her neck.

Hermione felt the air leave her lungs. His tone may have been deceptively gentle, but his words bellied who she was really dealing with.

"You make it sound like I'm the one with the split personality," Hermione replied weakly.

Tom simply chuckled and Hermione felt her chest constrict and tighten at the sound of it.

"Time's almost up, _Hermione_…" he whispered, and stepped away from her.

After he had calmly walked away, in an uncharacteristic outburst, Hermione slammed her palms on the desk in frustration and exhaled heavily, finally feeling as though she was able to breath.

Her emotions were jumbled inside of her; a mess of contradictions, indecisiveness and most of all, shame. Shame because, to Hermione, he didn't deserve any of it.

* * *

><p>"I think I might be a bit closer to understanding your problem," Phineas announced as they ate dinner in a small café off Diagon Alley, because Phineas indicated that he thought it best if they met somewhere more discreet to talk about such things.<p>

"Closer, but not completely solved?" Hermione asked. At his affirmative nod, Hermione sighed in disappointment.

Phineas eyed her somewhat sympathetically. "You have both Dumbledore and I working on this… the fact we can't solve this any faster is testament to the level of magic that was used on you."

Hermione tapped her fingers on the tablecloth. "I know," she sighed. "So what how far off do you think you are in solving it?"

Phineas shrugged his shoulders. "It's hard to say really. I have to go to Prague next week for business though, and will be gone for a fortnight, but I'll be working on it whilst I'm out of the country. I have a couple of contacts there that might be able to assist."

Hermione nodded and tried to appear calm on the outside, but on the inside she was a mess. After her confrontations with Riddle, the stress of getting home was reaching epic levels. She was jumpy about everything; a day couldn't begin soon enough but it also couldn't end soon enough either.

"I've been doing some research myself," she began.

"And?"

Hermione paused, not sure how to continue. Phineas was an intelligent man, surely he would have gone through any thought process she had gone through herself. She didn't want to sound stupid in front of him.

Taking a deep breath, she looked up at him again. "I think I was sent here on purpose…" she paused and felt a lump building in her throat, as if announcing what she was about to say would be the death of her. "I think whoever sent me here didn't want me to try and get back to my own time." She couldn't help the fact that her eyes felt slightly watery as she thought about it.

Phineas scoffed and then gave an incredulous chuckle.

"What?" she asked, feeling vulnerable at his reaction.

"You've _always _known this Hermione. It's just that only _now _are you accepting it."

Hermione frowned. "Don't tell-" she began but was quickly interrupted by Phineas.

"Don't be ignorant girl, it doesn't suit you," he hissed quietly. "Dumbledore has told me – in detail – of his dealings with you. He has been telling you from the start that he doesn't believe this is accidental. You've been in denial."

Hermione sat there. She didn't really know how to respond to that. She looked at him rather blankly, feeling as though a thousand bricks were being pushed upon her, and he was the one pushing them.

"So you don't think I can get back?"

"Again, don't be daft. Nothing is _impossible_ in the magical world. But do you really think that if Dumbledore, one of the most powerful wizards of his generation, couldn't have sent you home by now that there is an easy answer to your situation?"

"I…"

"Your situation pushes the limits of what is currently known about magical theory. You have to accept that you probably won't go back. However, we at least can make a study of your situation. Watch your health, view your timeline and see how you being here now changes your timeline – if it does at all. Don't you see Hermione, you are the ultimate study. The myths on timelines that your situation could solve…"

"I'm not some kind of study for you _or _Dumbledore." Hermione looked at the man across from her and was suddenly worried.

Phineas held up his hands in an apologetic manner. "Hermione, you misunderstand me. I will do everything in my power to find an answer for you… but stop expecting it to happen in days or weeks." He snapped. "What if I take years? What if we can't find an answer at all? You have to be prepared for that… and if you're not, you're health will suffer in more ways than one. It's dangerous for you to continue acting the way you are, do you understand?"

"I just… I just can't. I can't think that way. Do _you _understand?" Hermione looked at him imploringly.

"I do. But you can't think like that. You have to start adapting. Change is always inevitable. Was your previous life so planned out and wrapped in cotton wool that you won't be able to?"

Hermione scowled. "You know nothing of my previous life or what happened in it, so don't try to make assumptions."

Phineas leaned back in his chair and studied her. "Perhaps you should share-"

"No!" she cut across him. She would not, she _could _not. Too many rules, too many regulations, too many things she wanted to keep with her and only her.

"Record it for yourself then. Keep records, look at what has changed and record it and understand _why _it is changing," he quickly responded.

Hermione felt alarm bells go off immediately. Imagine if someone accidentally got hold of such a record? Her thoughts immediately went to Riddle and the fact that he had ingratiated himself into her life - thanks to her own stupidity. She knew she only had herself to blame, like she had told Dumbledore. Her arrogance at her own capabilities in finding a way home meant that she had given Riddle far too much leeway in being around her.

Hermione looked at him incredulously. She had to admit that she hadn't even spent much time considering it, so intent she was at returning home. "I'll think about it,"she replied, merely to appease him. Though she knew that there was no way she would do such a thing.

He nodded and smiled. She wasn't sure if she felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, or a new one added.

* * *

><p>Hermione was finishing up for the day, even though it was almost six in the evening. With the shop closed, and therefore, the usual heating subdued, Hermione had been relying on her own heating charms to get her through the final bit of work she wanted to do.<p>

Even though Tarquin had invited her out for drinks, she had politely declined, preferring the idea of the warmth of her flat and a chance to go back over the research she had managed to compile in the last couple of months. She was still smarting from her meeting with Phineas earlier in the week, his words reverberating in her mind whenever the shop became too quiet, or her task too mundane.

_You have to accept that you probably won't go back._

It was so bloody frustrating! She only hoped Phineas was able to gain information from his colleagues while abroad. Hermione ran a hand through her hair. The problem was that there was absolutely no evidence of her situation ever having occurred before. Not a single case study existed on anything mildly related to her situation. She had even looked up time turner accidents – even though the device could only go back hours – to no avail. She suspected that if anyone had been in a similar situation, they had either managed to return to their own time-line, or, they had lived a life of secrecy, refusing to 'mess with the timeline'. _Remind you of someone? _Hermione's own mind snarked at her which caused her to scowl.

As for her memory, well, that just made Hermione's frown deeper. She wondered if something similar had happened to Smith – if he actually had returned from the Veil. If he did, would the Ministry be working frantically to work out what had happened to the both of them? Phineas had told her that he was looking at the theory that some kind of 'ward' had been put up around the distorted memory. Hence why she was able to remember it quite clearly, yet so far, no one else was able to. Therefore, he was currently looking at everything from more sophisticated case studies of memory charms, ward theories and finally, curse breaking. Apparently, a friend of his, who didn't live far from Prague, had some expertise in memory charms and he would be visiting him whilst he was out of the country on business.

Hermione sighed. She glumly wondered if there was even a point of finding out who it was that sent her here. Shouldn't they just be concentrating on sending her back? But both Phineas and Dumbledore were adamant in finding out who it was, both agreeing that if they knew who it was, it would help them "understand the magic used". Hermione gave an internal huff, because her cynical side wondered if they only wanted to look at her as some kind of research project or for their own self-interest (in Phineas's case anyway). Those thoughts had become especially more predominant after Phineas's suggestion on comparing timelines if she was stuck living through this time line.

The same thoughts continued to float around in her head as she put away the final book for that day. Standing up, she stretched, and frowned slightly at all the kinks in her back. She had definitely been sitting down for too long. Maybe she would have a nice bath when she got upstairs, really treat herself… yes, that would make her feel better.

Just as she was rounding the corner to the back office, she felt something in the air. _Was someone in the shop?_ Hermione stilled, trying to adjust her hearing, though all she was met with was a heavy silence. Shaking her head slightly – she was _so_ sure – making sure her wand was in hand, she turned and was met with an empty aisle. Slowly looking around, she decided to double check that she had locked up properly. Rounding the corner, out near the register, Hermione inhaled sharply as she came face-to-face with Tom Riddle, who was leaning rather languidly against the front counter. They both looked at one another, Tom smugly twirling what looked like a set of the shop keys, whilst Hermione eyed him warily, gripping her wand more tightly.

"Your wards are absolutely rubbish you know," he said, after a few moments of silence.

"How did you get those?" Hermione asked cautiously, nodding towards the keys.

Tom smirked and pushed himself off the counter and moved towards her. Hermione immediately took a step back and raised her wand, pointing it directly at him.

"Why, poor Tarquin had a bit too much to drink tonight. Someone had to help him get home-"

"I swear, if you've hurt him, you'll pay Riddle," she spat immediately worried for Tarquin's welfare.

"Hurt him? Now, why would you suspect me of such an awful thing Hermione? You should be thanking me… It's just he accidently dropped these," he said and threw the keys up in the air, catching them easily. Hermione didn't miss the fact that his wand was now in his other hand. "I was simply returning them when I noticed some of the lights were still on."

Hermione scowled. "I don't believe you," she replied. "I think you took them from him."

Tom merely raised his eyebrows and then carelessly threw the keys onto the nearest surface. The sound of the metal hitting the table so harshly caused Hermione to flinch.

"It's truly terrible that you are so willing to see the worst in me," Tom replied.

Hermione squared her shoulders, refusing to lower her wand. "Well, now that you've _so politely _returned them, you best be going."

"I don't think I will," Tom replied and after a few seconds said, "We've got unfinished business."

"_We _don't have _anything_," she hissed angrily, and saw how his eyes darkened and jaw clenched in reaction.

"Now, now, it isn't nice to tell lies, Hermione," he replied, voice tight, and took another step towards her.

Hermione felt her heart hammer in her chest as she watched him advance towards her. Could she beat him? She highly doubted it… but perhaps he underestimated her? If he did, she perhaps stood a chance. There was no real time for her to properly think though, so she swallowed her fear, and gripped her wand tighter.

_Petrificus Totalus,_ she cast non-verbally, and then used the mere moments she had to duck behind one of the book shelves.

Tom laughed as he cast a shield charm and easily deflected her attempt. "Oh, you want to play, do you? Well, you should have just said so, Hermione. I'm always happy to _play_."

Hermione shivered at his tone. There were hints of what seemed like excitement and satisfaction in it. She didn't know why. Wouldn't he just want to get control of her in the easiest way possible?

"Now, which shelf are you behind, hm?" he asked, though, he was more talking to himself than her. "It would be a shame to destroy any books… but you may not leave me any choice. I think your boss-"

But before Tom could say anymore, Hermione leapt out from her hiding spot and sent a _Stupefy _hurtling towards him.

Tom quickly turned around, as though he anticipated her to be behind him, and they both watched for a second as the bright, red light hurtled towards him. Just at the last second, he smirked, pulled up another shield and blocked the spell. Hermione knew she shouldn't be surprised, but it didn't stop her from being disappointed.

She looked at Tom again as the shield came back down and was somewhat perturbed as she took him in. He eyed her in a way that made her feel so exposed. He looked as though he was analysing and anticipating any possible move she would make.

"You know, ever since I met you, I've wondered how you'd duel, what your magic would feel like," he commented carelessly as he rolled his wand in between his fingers. It frustrated Hermione that he was acting so casually about this. It made her feel as though he had already written her off and her cheeks flushed in indignation at the thought. Well, perhaps she would use something he'd never heard of.

_Levicorpus_, she quickly cast and was surprised by the power in it. She realised that her frustration at him must have transcended into her casting. Tom seemed to be surprised as well, and had to quickly duck out of the way, not anticipating the anger behind the spell and not knowing what it was. But she didn't give him a chance to think as she continued throwing spells at him.

_Petrificus Totalus!_

_Stupefy!_

"What was that first spell you cast? I've never seen that before," he asked as he continued to duck and block her.

Hermione was even more furious at that. He was acting like they were duelling in a classroom setting or something!

"Why don't you stand still and find out?" she snapped, as she continued firing spells at him.

Tom continued to look amused, only causing her ire to rise even more – if possible. He didn't even look like he was trying, which she thought was completely disrespectful. Did he think she would tire or surrender easily? Although, why should she be surprised? One of his biggest weaknesses was his arrogance.

Hermione suddenly smirked; she knew there was a spell she wanted to try. She wondered if it was as effective in this time period as it was 50 years from now.

"_Expelliarmus!" _she cried out.

Tom quickly slashed his wand in front of himself in protection. He then began to laugh. "What are you? A first year?" he jibed.

If Hermione wasn't so angry, she would admit that when he truly laughed, he was exceedingly handsome. His eyes crinkled genuinely and his mouth, devoid of his signature smirk, was so unassuming. _Stupid git_, she thought. She was almost tempted to remember that insult for future reference.

"Come on, Hermione, your _hair _isn't even at full potential yet. Although, you could just be one of those typical girls, you know… the ones that can quote a book by heart, but couldn't duel in fear of breaking a fingernail."

She knew he was goading her, and if Hermione wasn't afraid for her life – or so angry at him – she might've been a bit more logical about her next action.

_Sectumsempra! _She cast, and watched as the spell hurtled towards him as he continued to goad her. His eyes only showed a brief flicker of surprise as he registered the power behind the spell. Before Hermione could even breathe he quickly had to step aside, but he wasn't fast enough, and the Sectumsempra grazed his shoulder. He hissed something unintelligible and turned to inspect his shoulder. Gripping it tightly, Hermione watched as blood began seeping through his fingers. Tom turned back from his shoulder and stared directly into her eyes. Hermione stiffened as she saw the expression on his face; he certainly wasn't amused anymore. His normally dark eyes were now pitch black, and Hermione couldn't control the shiver as she felt the room darken almost completely around them. His gaze was almost feral as the lights flickered and Hermione instinctively took a step backwards, hitting one of the shelves behind her.

She realised that the curse must have only clipped him, as the blood loss, while noticeable, wasn't as significant as what she had seen previously. Still, it was enough for her to realise that it would be a very good idea to get the hell out of there. Taking another cautious step, still holding her wand defensively, she moved towards the front of the shop. If she was quick enough, she could probably manage to get out of there alive.

Her first step seemed so loud over the oppressive silence that had gathered around the two of them. The noise seemed to bring him out of whatever trance he had been in, and his dark eyes snapped to her foot, before looking back into her eyes again. Hermione swallowed and realised that only seconds had passed between them, though it felt like much longer. She watched as his lips curved into a sneer before he brought his wand up.

"Now we play," he said, his voice deathly quiet, though it carried easily over the space between them.

Before Hermione could break into a sprint away from him, he began firing spells at her. To the untrained eye, his casting might have appeared indiscriminate, but as Hermione recognised each of them, she knew that there was nothing haphazard about what he was doing. He was so quick she barely had time to throw a shield up, before she almost tripped over her own feet to get away from him. She gained support from one the shelves and quickly pushed herself off it to try and gain some momentum.

Her shields were struggling under the sheer power of the magic he was exerting, and she, in turn, was now firing a number of curses at him in quick succession as she ran back towards the shop entrance. It was like she was suddenly on auto-pilot. If anyone asked her what she was thinking at that very moment, she wouldn't have been able to articulate it any of it. It was all happening so quickly, she didn't have time to take stock of any possible strategy.

She realised he was gaining quite quickly on her, and fired a _Reducto _in his direction. It missed him, and hit one of the many large vases Valeria had decided to recently decorate the shop with. It exploded right in front of him, and she almost grinned as he had to quickly stop the shards of porcelain from hitting him. This short lived distraction meant that Hermione was at the door sooner than she realised, and she quickly reached for the handle, and swore loudly as it remained locked and actually burnt her hand.

"Did you really think I would let you just walk out that door?"

Hermione glared at Tom, struggling to hold her wand, wanting instead to cradle her injured hand.

"What was that curse you threw?" he demanded.

"What?" Hermione raised her eyebrows innocently at him. "Reducto? Stupefy? Petri-"

"Don't play with me!"

"But I thought you wanted to play, _Riddle_," she spat, trying to ignore the fierce burning of her hand.

Riddle's glare – if possible – became even more severe. Hermione glared straight back at him. If he was going to hold her there, like a prisoner, she was going to fight him. Just as she was about to tell him where he could stick his demands, she suddenly felt as though her hand was on fire again, just like when she first touched the door handle. She looked at her injured hand, and horror dawned on her as she realised that her skin was beginning to peel away.

"The affected skin will soon completely peel away without a healing spell," Riddle began to explain, nodding towards her hand. "In fact; you'll need my patented healing spell… my own creation, see."

Hermione looked at him, trying to choke back the sobs that threatened to leave her. What choices did she have? Potentially lose the use of one of her hands or ask him to heal her?

Riddle seemed to answer her question as he clicked his tongue in annoyance. "I'm not going to kill you, Hermione," he said in exasperation, "I'll heal your bloody hand."

"How do I know I can trust you?" Hermione finally asked.

"Well, it's not exactly in my best interest to kill you in your shop is it?" he bit back sarcastically.

_That's never stopped you from killing before_, Hermione immediately thought, but held her tongue. Her hand was now in excruciating pain, and she had stopped fighting the tears that began to flow uncontrollably. She bit down on her tongue to stop herself from screaming, and felt blood swirl in her mouth from the sheer force of trying to control the pain she was in. She couldn't hold it in any longer, and a blood curdling scream erupted as she watched a large chunk of skin on her palm fall onto the floor.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, you are completely impossible!" Riddle spat and before Hermione could react, he quickly flicked his wand. "_Stupefy!_"

* * *

><p>Hermione's eyes flickered opened quite suddenly, and she took in a shuddering breath as she remembered what had happened. She suddenly lifted her hand, wondering why it didn't hurt anymore, and realised that it was completely healed. Not even a scar was there. She then realised she was on something soft – not the floor of the shop – and blearily took in her surroundings. She was in her bedroom.<p>

_Shit._

That meant that Tom Riddle had somehow returned her to her flat. This also meant that he had either left, since he wasn't in her bedroom, or he was currently sneaking around looking at things he wasn't supposed to. She was suddenly thankful that she had hidden the most important aspects of her research in a warded chest, high up in a ceiling cavity, _just in case_. Unfortunately, if her memory served her correctly, some of Dumbledore's notes on the Veil were spread out in her living room. She had no doubt that he would have looked already.

Hermione crept towards the doorway and almost screamed in shock as she was suddenly face-to-chest with Heir of Slytherin.

"I thought I heard movement," he said as he looked at her.

She cautiously looked at him, noticing that his shoulder was completely healed. The _Sectumsempra _mustn't have been that vicious then. "What are you going to do to me?" she finally asked and her voice cracked slightly as she eyed his wand, which he made no move to be discreet about.

He completely ignored her question. "You know, I found some interesting information in the living room Hermione."

Hermione stuttered but didn't actually respond. She was now too frightened to actually say anything. Again, she looked around quickly and despondently realised that he could do whatever he wanted. She knew how precarious her situation was without her wand, and tried to control the oncoming panic attack.

"Do you have any idea how lenient I've been with you, _Hermione_?" he asked as he took a step forward, causing her to immediately take a step backwards. "Do you?" he pressed.

Hermione immediately went to nod her head but quickly stopped and took a deep breath, feeling as though everything was closing in around her. "N-no," she stuttered, but it was too late, as he had caught her slight acquiesce and she watched in dread as his eyes lit up knowingly.

"You do, don't you?" he asked, "Pray tell, how does a girl who only moved here recently, understand me better than half the dolts I've associated with for most of my life?"

"I-I don't know what you mean," she replied, her throat constricting.

"Don't play the fool, Hermione. It certainly doesn't suit you. I'll ask you again," he took another step towards her. "How do you know?"

Hermione stepped back, and grimaced when the back of her knees hit her bed. Tom smirked as he watched her realise she had nowhere to run.

"Going somewhere?" he mocked as he continued towards her until they were only inches apart.

"Please don't," she whispered as he leaned in towards her.

He tilted his head back to look her in the eye. "Don't what?" he murmured and he lifted his hand up and ran it lightly down her cheek. His touch and proximity caused her to shiver violently.

Hermione felt a wave of shame at the pleased look on his face.

"Are you attracted to me, Hermione?" she felt his arm wrap around her waist.

She swallowed nervously and remained silent on his question. The question which always seemed to be at the back of her mind, being insinuated by everyone else…

She squared her shoulders as best as she could and looked up at him. "Don't be ridiculous," she replied, and cringed at the sneer that immediately appeared on his face at her words. "I have a boyfriend," she explained quickly, grasping for any possible straws, though Ron now suddenly seemed so very far away.

Tom smirked at her. "Ah yes… the famous _boyfriend_. The one who, if he indeed exists, has never shown his face and no one has ever heard of him."

Hermione bristled at this and tried to push him off of her. It was hopeless, of course, and it only meant that the hands now rested on his chest, causing Tom to chuckle.

"He does exist and I love him!" she snapped back at him.

Tom's derision finally came to the surface. "You _love _him…" he looked at her as though he was disgusted. Suddenly, his wand was pointed against her temple. "How strong is your emotion for him? How much do you _love _him, Hermione?" he mocked.

Hermione tried to look away from him, but the wand at her temple stopped her.

"All it would take is one careful _Oblivate,_" he muttered at he looked at her. "I could make you completely forget about him."

Hermione could only stare back at him incredulously. She had no idea where he was coming from. What did this have to do with finding out about her project? At her puzzled expression, he continued.

"You'd completely forget, of course. Then how powerful would your 'love' be?" he sneered in a sarcastic tone.

Hermione's eyes widened with realisation. "Please don't," she breathed.

"Then stop using it as an excuse," he snapped.

Hermione looked down, eyebrows furrowed in thought. So many thoughts were running through her mind at that very moment. She was so confused. Was Riddle actually…? _No_. No, it was impossible. Even the idea, which she now realised, had been floating around in her subconscious for some time, seemed so outrageous she couldn't even justify it to herself.

She looked back up at him and his eyes were almost black as he stared at her. Despite the fact that her heart sped up at the heat of his gaze, she told herself that this wasn't right. No, she couldn't believe this!

Suddenly, his other hand, which wasn't holding his wand, lifted and cupped her check. His gentle touch was in such great contrast to the dark look in his eyes. Hermione's heart stuttered at the contact. It had been such a long time since anyone had touched her in such a way, and she had to mentally stop the urge to lean into him.

Steeling herself, Hermione's eyes darted everywhere else except for his. "_No_. No, this isn't… _No_."

"Yes," Tom murmured, and despite his the way his hand gently moved across her cheek, his wand didn't move.

She shook her head, her realisation at what was happening still sinking in, despite the fact that the two of them had been dancing around it for long enough now.

"Yes," he repeated, and his head dropped down to hers, his hand gripping her face and forcing her eyes to meet his before his eyes dropped to her lips.

Hermione shivered as he leant in, their noses now touching. When he finally closed the distance between them and his lips met hers, Hermione felt her knees go out from under her, and she would have surely fallen if he didn't wrap his arms tightly around her. His body had melded with hers, and whatever space that previously existed between them was now completely non-existent. He pressed his lips against hers, confidently, his hand moving from her cheek to her hair, causing her to sigh shakily into his mouth. He took her lower lip lightly between his teeth and sucked on it gently, and Hermione couldn't stop the quiet gasp that escaped.

At this, his lips became more insistent, more demanding. They were devouring her and forcing her to respond and that was when it suddenly became all too real for her. His mouth was full of intent as his lips licked, sucked and pulled against hers. Butterflies fluttered around in her stomach and she fought defiantly against her desire to continue. _She couldn't do this. _ That logical part of her suddenly reminded her just _who _was kissing her.

_"I can't do this,"_ she muttered between his kisses.

He took no heed of her; instead biting into her lower lip and then dragging his tongue against her bottom teeth. Hermione whimpered against him, and at that, she felt his groan vibrate between the two of them. She couldn't stop herself from shakily running her palms up his chest to rest on his shoulders, and his free hand moved out of her hair, down her cheek bone to rest on the area between her neck and shoulders; tracing what felt like meaningless shapes on her skin, causing goosebumps to erupt across her neck and shoulders.

She was finally able to pull away from him and they both stared at each other, breathing heavily, Tom not giving her an inch, nor removing his hands, which now both sat on her shoulders.

Hermione was the first to look away, his intense gaze making her feel vulnerable. She looked down, taking in the closeness of their bodies, which created an unprecedented heat that was completely surrounding her.

"This can't happen again," she muttered. "This is wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen."

He was silent for what felt like an age, causing Hermione to feel as though her words were simply hanging in the air. She chanced a glance up at him and felt her chest constrict as she took him in. His face might have been impassive, yet his eyes were almost as black as storm clouds.

"You know, Hermione, I'm getting very bored with all of this. This constant pushing and pulling you continue to favour… well, it's getting rather redundant, wouldn't you say?"

Hermione remained silent, heart hammering in her chest, as she watched him.

He suddenly leaned down, pressing his nose into her neckline. "There's a type of magic I've been practicing," he murmured, lips caressing her skin. "Can you guess what it is?" he asked, and she felt his wand dig back into her temple.

Hermione swallowed heavily, her throat constricted as she felt his lips move along her neck, until he finally moved away; his fingers replacing his lips, and Hermione couldn't control the disappointment or the shuddering breath that left her as his fingers danced across that sensitive area just above her jawline.

"Can you?" he prompted, his tone deceptively gentle as his fingers moved from her jaw to gripping her face so tightly she couldn't look away.

Hermione couldn't answer him; her fear was paralysing every muscle in her body. What scared Hermione the most was that even though she knew who he was right from the start, she had _still _managed to underestimate Tom Riddle. And now she was paying the price.

Hermione now realised that she might die in this decade. Her life was in Riddle's hands. She squared herself as best as she could, her gaze turning cold as she finally looked up and returned his stare.

"You don't want to make the mistake of hurting me," she bluffed, as she locked gazes with him.

Riddle's gaze again darkened as he appraised her. Slowly, his lips curled into a wicked smirk. "Now, now, dearest… suspecting the worst already? You're just making me more curious now."

"Oh, stop acting as if you aren't capable." She watched his eyes narrow, and if she weren't standing so close to him, she would have outwardly cringed.

However, almost instantly, his face became impassive again and he didn't rise to the bait of her comment.

"You know, sometimes, to get an answer you've been after, I've been told you just need to ask the question in a different manner. So, I have to ask you a question, Hermione. And I very much hope you can answer it."

Hermione shook her head, but refused to say anything.

"No? Well there are other means of asking…" he trailed off and gave her a satisfied smile. "In fact, I actually prefer this method," Tom said as traced the wand down her cheek and before she could even guess his next course of action, the one word she dreaded was hissed through his lips, "_Legilimens!"_

* * *

><p>Tom gripped her chin and stared directly into her eyes. Entering her mind was completely different to practicing with his followers. While he demanded that they attempt to block him, there was still that subconscious need follow him, which always stopped them from completely rebelling against him accessing their minds. Hermione's was the first mind he had penetrated outside his Knights.<p>

The walls she attempted to erect pulsated all around him. She was stronger than what he had expected, and it only made him more desperate to find out what was hidden beneath. He violently pushed a strong surge of his magic into her and felt triumph as the walls cracked all around him.

Tom was pushing through; rushing uncontrollably. Though, much to his frustration, it was of no choice of his own. Flashes of colour, and only glimpses of images surged past, almost too quickly for him to catch. Tom had never read about this form of protection, but guessed that this was obviously a secondary line of defence she had created if anyone was able to break past her initial walls. While others might be further disenchanted from continuing, it only made Tom more curious. Why did this girl have so many protections? What was she hiding?

As the memories rushed past him, Tom was able to pick up certain images of people and places which were obviously a constant part of her life as they appeared so frequently, even if they were no more than a blur. It was a shame he couldn't actually view anything... just a picture, here or there. Most constant was flashes of a man with bright red hair, who often appeared almost equally with a dark-haired man. Tom blanched slightly at the strong emotions associated with those two. He wondered if the red-head was the boyfriend she spoke of. He certainly appeared in her memories often enough for her to obviously have some kind of attachment to him. Tom ignored the anger that came with the affection that was linked to him, and continued pushing forward. Images of the Ministry were constant, and then, as he pushed deeper, funnily enough, there was flashes of what felt like Hogwarts, over and over again and… _books, books, books_.

But before he could put too much thought into the latter memories, Tom quickly fell into the first clear memory he had come across since entering her mind.

Suddenly, it was all too clear. He was in a dark, non-descript, hallway, following Hermione as she followed another man down the corridor. He almost skipped over the memory, thinking it unimportant; until-

_She was entering a strange chamber._

_She was arguing with her colleague._

_She was running as the chamber collapsed around her._

_She awoke in what he now realised the Veil, located in the Ministry._

Then Tom recognised the woman straight away; the woman who had appeared before him only days earlier. She was talking to Hermione and her work colleague and Tom was transfixed, taking in their conversation.

"_Well I have to admit that you two turning up was rather a large surprise… I mean not that I'm supposed to tell you that but fate has a funny way of working."_

Tom watched Hermione intensely as she continued to interact with the woman. He noted that the woman was just as infuriating as she had been in his short interaction with her. He was not surprised when the woman calmly stated the same words that Vablatsky had quoted to Hermione at Flourish and Blotts all those weeks ago.

Hermione was given the impression she was going home…

_Home._

He withdrew from her mind and quickly caught her as she slumped, boneless, against him. For what felt like an age, though it was probably only minutes, they both remained silent; Hermione trying to control her distorted breathing, while Tom ran through all the possibilities this presented him. Why was that so clear, yet she had managed to block everything else from him? Finally, Tom felt her move, and looked down as Hermione finally seemed to regain some strength, trying to pull away from him. Her head jerked and she stared straight at him, eyes blazing.

"How could you?" she whispered, her voice raw, as though she wasn't even talking to him, but more to herself.

Angry at her for a reason he couldn't define, he pulled her even closer to him and looked down at her, brushing her wild hair away from her face, cupping her cheek.

"Quite easily, actually."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviews are welcome and appreciated :)<strong>

**Please note that I now reply to anon reviews too! my responses can be found here: tomioneconvention (dot) forumotion (dot) com for chapter 11.**

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**Thank you for reviewing chapter 11:**

Fantasmarific_Amalia, HMK, ShimmeringWater, Allasea Riddle, AwesomePersonlolxx, kimgeer, Eyrie, everlastingtrueromance, Blackshirt16, uchicha.s, CheshireCat23, AD Lewis, M., AlwaysthereforTaraxx, Lady Miya, ouiplanete, marana1, HereToRead84, FadedSunset, SummerBreeze3, LK_HoGwArTs_hEaDgIrL, paintmyworlddarkblue, Chelseabaabyox3, silver screen icon, gleeislove, AvoidedIsland, Nix, mekom, sKyLaR_KnIgHt, LadyNorth76, Kou_Shunu, , Jen103, Doctor It, Account Already On Hiatus, ma4petite, Winterblume, Nerys, OfCakeAndIceCream, Barryium, Sin-and-Smokin, Sarah.A.A, Universal Hope and princessNyxxx!

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**Shan**


	13. Chapter 13

**Welcome to Chapter (lucky for some) 13! Sorry about the wait, but I had a few plot things to settle, directions to chose and so on. Choosing directions can be quite daunting! Normally I like cruising and ebbing along with the tide, so it bothered me that I couldn't do that. Oh well, in the end I've picked something that will hopefully work and you'll all enjoy.**

**Warning: The end of this chapter contains some adultish themes (don't like, don't read). **

**Chapter song recommendations/inspirations: 'Don't sit down 'cause I've moved your chair' by the Arctic Monkeys, 'Jungle' by Emma-Louise, 'Midnight City' by M83, and 'The Pretender' by the Foo Fighters.**

XXX

Hermione quickly pulled herself out of Tom's grasp, causing her to stumble a few feet back from him. "Don't _ever _touch me again," she hissed, instinctively looking around the room and to find an escape route.

Tom's gaze immediately hardened at her words, though he didn't reply at first. He merely remained standing there, watching her. Finally, he said, "Surely you don't mean that, Hermione _Granger_?"

Hermione was pretty sure that the last time she had been this angry was when she was dealing with Voldemort-related issues during the war. Trying to control her anger, she squeezed her eyes shut for a second, took a deep breath, and then reopened them. _Damn, he was still there_. What in Merlin's name was she going to do? Her head was pounding from his attack, and he still had her wand.

At least she had managed to protect most of her thoughts and memories from him with a little trick she had learned as an Unspeakable. Still, why was he able to view the memory of the Veil, when Phineas couldn't? While Tom was good at Legilimency, she felt that Phineas was more experienced. It was understandable, Tom was still learning, while Phineas had mastered his magic long ago. Unfortunately, it meant that he now knew her surname, which, while it was the least of her problems, was certainly an issue on its own. Because who needs an alias when all they are supposed to be doing is an innocent project with Professor Dumbledore?

"So, shall we do this the easy or hard way?" Tom finally asked.

"I'm not telling you anything by choice," Hermione replied, crossing her arms defiantly. And she wouldn't. Hermione felt a strange sense of freedom with those words. He could try whatever he wanted; she made the decision then and there, that she would rather lose her mind than reveal key aspects of the future to Tom Riddle.

A flicker of amusement crossed his face. "Well, then, let's just start by what I know, shall we?" he asked in a sickly sweet voice.

Hermione took a deep, calming breath. Trying to calm herself, she imagined all the awful, sadistic things she would like to currently do to the man standing in front of her.

"I must admit that I just don't know where to start," he began in a mock-cheerful tone. "I mean, there's the interesting fact that your last name is Granger … Although, I can understand why you'd want to change your name. After all, it isn't every day that someone falls into the Veil and actually comes out to tell the tale … especially in what I believe to be is another decade."

Hermione didn't reply. Inside, she was fuming and she had to admit, still scared. She gave herself an emotional slap; her emotions were spinning out of control. This was obviously the worst possible outcome: Tom Riddle, of all people, knowing her secret.

"But which decade do you come from? I doubt you're from the past. I'm taking completely wild guesses here, but," he started with an amused smirk, "you're quite strange for a young woman; not at all like any other I've ever met, nor do you appear to be interested in the same things witches of this generation are. You speak in a way which doesn't make me think you're someone who sat around sipping tea in the Regency era, either," he said as he looked her up and down, causing Hermione to bristle.

"You're one to talk about being strange … _'Detective'_Riddle," she mocked. Just who did he think he was?

Riddle merely gave her a smug grin. "I'm guessing the future. Plus there was the fact that you were with a Smith; one that I have never ever met. Quite a dunce, isn't he?"

Hermione's mouth snapped shut and pressed into a thin, angry line. She had to control herself to not reply. Every time she did, it just seemed to give him more ammunition and, not to mention, would confirm things for him no matter what she said.

"What? No witty retort?" Tom asked.

"I'm not dignifying any of that with a response."

"But I think I've already proven that you don't have to exactly say anything," he replied, the smug and amused expression looking as though it wasn't going to leave anytime soon.

"Not really, I managed to hold you off for the majority, and don't think I will change my mind—no matter what you do."

Tom's expression went from smug to completely blank within the space of a few seconds. "Make no mistake, _Hermione_, when I want something, I get it; no matter the cost."

Hermione lifted her chin defiantly and narrowed her eyes. "Likewise, Riddle," she responded coolly.

They both appraised one-another; Tom narrowing his eyes slightly at her response.

"It doesn't really matter. What you refuse to tell me can be answered through logic and common sense," he replied with an all-knowing look on his face.

Hermione held in her huff of anger. _How dare he act as though he would win!_

"Do you know why the woman sent you here, instead of back to your own time?" he finally asked.

Hermione remained stubbornly silent for a moment. Despite the fact that on the inside she was desperately curious to work out why he could see that memory, and despite her work at trying to block him out, it was as if magic were at play … as if _it_—whatever _it_was—wanted him to see the memory. She recalled how the memory almost surged to the front of her mind, as if wanting to meet his attack.

"No," she finally muttered. She figured that telling him that meant that he wouldn't torture her unnecessarily if he thought she was hiding some kind of secret mission from him.

"So the boyfriend does exist, does he? Just in another time," Tom said.

Hermione's eyes widened and met his in surprise. Of all the things he could comment on or ask, he brought up Ron? A feeling of guilt twisted through her and her cheeks flushed. She had stupidly kissed Riddle, and it was obvious to Hermione that he had only kissed her as a means of distraction. She felt so ashamed and used. She had betrayed Ron, and he would never forgive her if he ever found out. _What kind of muggleborn goes about kissing Lord Voldemort, anyway?!_Hermione hastily pushed this thought aside, as it made her feel even more guilty and stupid.

Riddle seemed to be quietly observing her, and she knew that he was waiting for her to say something about Ron. But she didn't want to talk about him with Voldemort. After how she had betrayed him, it felt like she was disrespecting him even more by simply discussing it. And by thinking about it, made her think of other unwanted things … _things _which related directly to her feelings.

"Well, I must say, _this _project is far more interesting than the one you made up."

Hermione rolled her eyes, though she had to admit she was relieved by his quick change of topic.

"So, how's trying to get 'home' working for you? I'm assuming _dismally_."

Hermione's teeth ground together angrily. Squeezing her fists tightly, she finally let out the long, frustrated breath she had been holding in.

"No matter, perhaps I can help you," he finally said.

Hermione couldn't stop from snorting at that. He really wasn't serious, was he? Why would she want _his _help? Yes, he was the only other person who could see who exactly had sent her here—but the idea of him helping her was ridiculous! As if Voldemort would want to do such an altruistic thing. Meanwhile, she had to work out _why _he could see it. Perhaps Phineas might be able to help with that?

"Er, that's very … _kind _of you, but no thanks," Hermione replied.

"Hmm, you don't seem to want my help. Why, I'm almost offended," he said as his long fingers ran along his wand.

"I have enough help already," she replied coolly, trying to keep the snide tone from her voice.

"Who was that woman?"

"I-I don't know."

Tom was quiet for a moment, as though he was considering something. "Dumbledore is, no doubt, sitting back making nonsensical babble about your situation," he commented and his tone was unsurprisingly sharp.

Hermione scowled. "Don't say that about Professor Dumbledore!" Though she would never admit that the statement held some truth.

"How do you know you're not supposed to have my help?" Tom then asked.

"What do you mean?" Hermione frowned.

"I'm simply remembering a lot of things that have happened recently and I can't help but wonder if … _everything happens for a reason_."

Hermione crossed her arms and suddenly looked sceptical. "Even if that is the truth, what do you have to do with it?"

"Well, you have to admit that your situation is odd. And when the same woman appeared at Borgin and Burkes—"

"What are you talking about?" Hermione cut across him, not caring that she suddenly sounded 'too interested'.

"She appeared, and then disappeared, a day ago."

"Are you going to tell me what she said?" Hermione asked.

"Well she hinted at easier ways I could find out what I want," he replied, cryptically. "It was almost as if she wanted me to keep approaching you," he added, though it seemed more like he was thinking out loud, rather than actually talking to her.

Hermione glared as Tom went quiet, his eyes calculating. Finally, he smirked, and pointed his wand directly at her.

_Okay, this is it_, Hermione thought. He was going to torture her to reveal all of her secrets. Hermione was not going to budge on this, though. This was something she could at least control. She might not be able to beat Voldemort in a duel, but she wasn't afraid of dying, if it meant saving her memories and those that were important to her.

Standing straight and staring defiantly back at him; she got the surprise of her life when he said, "Accio Hermione's research."

Suddenly all of Hermione's research landed on the bed. And when she said _all_her research, she meant all of it. Including the chest she had kept hidden in the cavity of her ceiling. He noticed the shocked look on her face and actually had the audacity to let out an amused chuckle.

"Nice wards, by the way. If it makes you feel any better, it did take me quite a while to break through them."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "You foul—"

"Careful, Hermione," he cut across her, his tone light but his eyes were anything but. "Wouldn't want to say anything you regret."

"Oh, I don't think I'd regret it," Hermione snapped back.

"Calm down, I'm only trying to help you."

"And I told you that I don't want your help!"

"Yes, but that was before we established that I am somehow linked in all of this," he replied, far too easily.

"Correction. _You_established that."

"And deep down, you can't help but question the truth in it, Hermione."

"No, I don't." Hermione lied.

Tom smirked and tilted his head as he observed her. "You knew me in the future, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't," she immediately replied. And technically, that wasn't a lie. She didn't know actually know Voldemort.

Tom narrowed his eyes. "Fine. Did you know _of_me, though?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, her jaw clenching unconsciously. "No."

"Liar," he replied, before looking back down at her work. "Doesn't matter anyway, I'm sure I'll find out what I want soon enough."

_What, that you became an old, bald man who obsessively chases a teenage boy around trying to kill him?_Immediately, a smirk, which almost rivalled his, appeared on her face. "Right, well, like I said before, I'm not telling you anything more … unless I chose to."

He casually flipped through some of her files before looking back up at her. She was fairly sure that he would have read through a lot—_if not all_— of it by now anyway. She still wasn't sure how long she had been out, but if it was long enough to crack her wards she was guessing it must have been early morning already.

After a few long minutes, he finally looked up from her notes. "I can help you, Hermione," he said.

Hermione stayed silent at first, before swallowing heavily. "Why would you want to help me?" she asked.

He looked as though he wanted to scoff at her. "This is very interesting magic. Why wouldn't I want to help?"

"So altruistic ... I can barely stand it," Hermione replied flatly.

His eyebrows rose in amusement. "Tell me what you really think … Oh wait, perhaps I can just find out on my own." He twirled his wand around and smirked knowingly.

"That won't work," she almost sing-songed. "You could only see—"

"What I was obviously meant to see," he quickly cut over her and gave her a knowing look. "Look, it's obvious that I'm meant to help you. Why do you think she also appeared to me, too?"

Hermione sighed loudly and looked at him seriously. "I don't know," she finally responded dejectedly. She shook her head, too many thoughts were currently running through it. Yes, it was obvious there was some kind of weird link between the two … but _why_? How was she supposed to work with someone like Voldemort? But what if it was necessary? She really needed to speak to someone else … the fact that he was strutting around her apartment like he owned it was really beginning to piss her off. And the fact that it was _him_meant that she couldn't think straight on the matter. She really needed another opinion.

Phineas would know what to do … and be a possible mediator if necessary. Yes, she needed Phineas and tell him that there was a link between her, Riddle, and the woman in the Veil.

"Let's just say, hypothetically, that I did actually want your help … what's really in it for you?" Hermione asked.

"I already told—"

"The truth," Hermione demanded over him and noted the angry look that flashed across Tom's face at her tone before it went deceptively blank.

"All right … Maybe I want to know why that woman appeared to me, too."

"A half-truth, but one that I will at least believe and accept," Hermione replied in that imperious tone she was so well-known for. "Considering I want to know the exact same thing." She was thoughtful for a moment. Hermione was painfully aware that with what he already knew, she was not going to get rid of him easily, so her best bet was to at least make a deal with him. He was an annoying and evil arsehole, but an intelligent one, nonetheless. If he was going to be hanging around, he could at least make himself useful. "Alright, I'll do a deal with you," she finally offered.

Tom's eyebrows rose. "Are you really one to make a deal? You aren't exactly in a position to make demands. You don't even have a wand."

Hermione crossed her arms. "Actually, I'm more than capable of making a deal with you, Riddle."

He merely arched an eyebrow and scoffed. "Right …"

"I may not have a wand, but I have other bargaining tools."

"Like what?"

"Firstly, I can last for a long time keeping my memories distorted from you, regardless of the one memory you were 'allowed' to see. Secondly, how do you know I'm not working with any other organisations in this time period, hm? And lastly, if you even touch a hair on my head, Dumbledore will know."

Riddle was up within the second, suddenly standing right in front of her, boxing her into the wall. Hermione swallowed, and lifted her chin, and met his hard gaze. She wasn't lying, Unspeakables were taught to hold off unauthorised Legilimency for a very, very long time. By the time he'd crack through her techniques, her mind would be so muddled that he wouldn't even be able to make sense of most of what he was seeing anyway. She knew it was a risk he wouldn't be willing to take with her at this very moment in time. To be frank, it wasn't a risk she wanted to take, either, but she would rather risk it than Riddle knowing everything she had been privy to in the wizarding world. She wasn't lying about the other organisations. Technically, that was Phineas. She was half bluffing about Dumbledore, of course. Although she knew that Dumbledore would be able to put two and two together if something did happen to her. But, again, as much as she hated to think about it in that way, it was not in Riddle's best interest to hurt her.

"Have you been telling Dumbledore all about our little interactions, then?" he muttered, and she noted the hint of bitterness in his voice. Though she was pretty sure the only reason she heard it was because she understood the shared history between the two of them.

"I didn't have to. He brought it up with me," she replied.

"Warn you off me, did he?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. He actually remarked about how clever you are," she replied truthfully.

Tom raised his eyebrows and was silent for a while, seemingly thoughtful. "So … what sort of deal would you like to make?"

Hermione was surprised at the way he easily changed topics. "Okay. How about, you can help me, and related to this 'project' of sorts, I won't hide anything from you. Therefore, you get to find out why that woman appeared to you, and it might also help me get home. So basically, anything outside of that memory is off limits. That's it."

Tom shook his head. "I don't think so. That's not enough. What if I want more?"

Hermione stood still and straightened her posture. "About the future, you mean? Well, sorry, but those are my terms, Riddle. Besides, what exactly do you want to know? If it's lottery numbers, I'm sorry, but I just can't share that information," she added sarcastically.

"Well, a time-traveller _and _a comedian. Your talents never cease, Hermione Granger," Riddle replied and rolled his eyes.

Hermione found herself bristling at his comment. Not to mention that his close proximity was making her uncomfortable in several different ways. "Accept it, or you can forget I even exist, Riddle. If I have to, I will find a way to disappear." _Like I managed to once before_, she wanted to add, but managed to hold her tongue. The situation wasn't exactly how she had planned. Scrap that, it wasn't at all how she planned, but she had to come to some sort of agreement with Voldemort.

"Or _I_could make you disappear," he replied casually.

Hermione tried to hide her tremble at the threatening undertone of his words. "You could, but it certainly wouldn't help you now, would it?" she replied bravely.

Tom tilted his head thoughtfully before a smirk adorned his perfect lips. "Were you a Gryffindor, by any chance?"

Hermione huffed loudly. "Do we have a deal or not?"

Tom gave a small smile, as if she answered the question he asked, which only annoyed her further. "Fine, we have a deal."

Hermione tried to hide her shock. She wasn't exactly expecting him to agree with her that quickly. She was expecting at least another annoying five or ten minutes of trying to hash out some kind of deal.

"Just be careful what you ask for, Hermione," he added.

"Nothing outside of that memory," she replied in return. "We find out who the woman is, and why she sent me here, and what it's got to do with you … nothing more, nothing less."

He nodded, and she couldn't help but notice that he was still standing very close to her. An uncomfortable, prickling sensation travelled through her as she felt his body heat.

"Well, you can stand back now, since we've come to a … agreement," she finally muttered, somewhat awkwardly. She didn't want to also add that he didn't need to try and stand as if they were lovers when he had already got what he wanted. Heat became embarrassment, yet again, as she recalled their kiss and how she had stupidly allowed it.

She faced him and noted that he was studying her closely before his attention turned to the small bedroom window, not too far from them. Flicking his wand, she watched as the curtains sprang apart, revealing the beginnings of morning. Was it that time _already_?

"Well, I best go get ready for work," Tom announced, his expression carefully blank. "But thank you for hosting me tonight, Hermione," he said in a smug tone that caused Hermione to look away from him. "I'll come by tonight to go over those notes with you."

Great. Just great. When she got her hands on that Veil woman, well, there would be hell to pay! She wondered if she could she curse someone who might technically not be alive?

"Until then," he added and waved his wand over her. Hermione felt the tingle of magic and recognised the spell immediately.

"What did you just do to me?" she demanded, wanting him to admit it.

"Oh, nothing much, just don't leave Diagon Alley without me, would you?"

Hermione knew it, it was a tracking spell! And if it was the one she was thinking of, a counter spell hadn't been created until the mid-seventies. Voldemort obviously thought that he'd be able to track her... well, she'd show him.

"Why would I do that?" she replied. "We are _'working together'_after all," she mocked.

"I don't know, why would you?" he replied, his eyebrows arching, his face looking perfectly angellic.

After she didn't respond, he stepped back from her and moved out of the room, beckoning her to follow. She proceeded to watch as he put his coat back and gloves back on.

"I guess I'll leave the way I came in, then?" he asked.

"I suppose," Hermione replied awkwardly.

"I'll see you tonight then, Hermione. It would probably be best if you got some sleep, you'll need it." He winked.

Hermione's mouth dropped open in shock at his words. How dare he be so suggestive?! How dare he make it sound as if they were doing something other than work?!

"Let's not pretend that kiss was anything more than what it was, Riddle," she replied, unable to control the anger in her tone. "I'll work with you, but that's all it will be, _work_. Nothing more, nothing less."

Riddle closed the gap between them immediately. "Is that so?" he whispered.

Hermione swallowed heavily. "That kiss meant nothing."

"_Nothing,_" Riddle muttered quietly and looked away for a moment and Hermione was confused at the fact she thought she saw his jaw tighten and set.

"I know you merely used it to help get what you want. And it doesn't matter now, anyway." She hoped that he couldn't hear her heart thundering in her chest.

"Nothing, is it? My, you certainly have interesting perceptions about _nothing_," he said.

"I know exactly I'm talking about," she replied defensively.

Suddenly was he at eye level with her staring at her intensely. "You know _nothing_," he spat, causing Hermione's eyes to widen in surprise at his tone alone.

But he was out the door before she could even retort. Hermione huffed loudly, stomped her foot, then collapsed on the small couch near her. She grabbed a throw cushion and let out a muffled, exasperated scream into it, before throwing it across the room and running her hands over her face in frustration.

She quickly stood back up and went over to her desk. She had to write an urgent letter to Phineas. Just as she sat at her desk, she noted her wand, sitting right there. Riddle must have put it there before he left, or it had been there all along.

She felt nothing short of relief when it was in her hands again. Recalling the tracking spell he had cast, she considered breaking it then and there, but she knew he'd be alerted to it straight away. No, she'd wait until she really needed to do it, then he'd get a nice little surprise. At this point in time, it was important to her to have a couple of extra cards up her sleeve that he wouldn't expect. She had no need to leave Diagon Alley, or the shop, so she decided to hold off for now.

Getting a quill ready, she began her letter to Phineas. She only hoped he'd be able to respond sooner, rather than later.

XXX

Later that evening, Hermione watched as Phineas paced her 'quaint' living room—his words, not hers—as he took in everything she had just told him. Tom had not yet arrived and it was only a matter of time before he turned up.

"Unbelievable," he muttered. "That some … _boy_ can see it, and I can't. Do you think he'd let me try and see his memories?"

Hermione almost choked on the tea she had been sipping on. "Hardly," she finally managed to say. "In fact I can guarantee you that will _never_ happen."

He looked at her and merely nodded. "Though, I think you're right Hermione. If he can see it, he's involved in one way or another—whether he is responsible or not."

"Responsible?" Hermione queried.

"Yes …we can't rule anything out. Though I have another theory which I'll wait to discuss,"

While Hermione could understand that conclusion, she shook her head emphatically. "No, the first … that's impossible."

"Why?"

Hermione hesitated. She liked and respected Phineas, but how much could she tell him? It was no longer a matter of just trusting Phineas not to reveal anything … what if he wasn't given a choice?

"Hermione," Phineas said, with a twinge of annoyance in his voice. "Just tell me."

"I just know, okay?" Hermione replied quietly.

Phineas's eyebrows rose. "You knew him?"

"You could say he became rather well known," she replied carefully, not really able to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "I didn't know him personally, though."

"So what … an academic?"

Hermione arched an eyebrow at him, her lips thinning to an annoyed line. He was really a bit obvious in fishing for information, wasn't he? Just as she was about to voice that opinion, his lips curved up into what most women would consider a charming smirk. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"So, what _can_you tell me about this boy?"

Hermione let out a deep breath she didn't realise she was holding. "He's about my age, went to Hogwarts, works at Borgin and Burkes—"

"_Him_?"

"Yes, why?"

"I thought the name _Tom Riddle_had sounded familiar," Phineas mused. "I've been in there a couple of times when he's been working."

"And?"

"Don't you find it strange that such a _nice_, _polite_, and _articulate_boy would work in such a place?" he said, the implication heavy in his tone.

Hermione looked at him for a moment, and knew, just by the expression on his face, that he understood. He may not know the exact things Tom Riddle had done so far, or would do, for that matter. Now the fact that Dumbledore had asked Phineas to help her meant even more to her than she could explain.

"Well, I wasn't going to say it myself," she jokingly replied, trying to hide the sudden swell of emotions she was feeling.

His lips quirked up, and he was going to reply but his face suddenly stilled. "Someone's coming up the stairs," he announced.

Hermione recalled the way Phineas had frantically waved his wand around to create the wards as she had described what Riddle had done, conveniently leaving out the kiss, of course. She had been impressed by the complexity of his spell work and thought she might ask, at a later and more convenient date, if he could teach her that.

Before she could reply, there was a sharp knock on the door. She gave Phineas one more look before she stood up and walked over to the door. Opening it, she looked up at Tom, dressed head to toe in black, and looking just as regal and haughty as Phineas. She stepped back from the door, and gestured for him to enter.

"Hermione," he greeted in a low voice, as he stepped through the door. He looked on the verge of saying something … the kind of thing that would infuriate or tease her. Hermione could just tell by his expression, but his eyes immediately fell on Phineas, and the smug smirk and act of familiarity disappeared.

"Tom Riddle, I presume?" Phineas asked, breaking the ice, and stepping forward.

Now that Hermione was faced with the two equally tall men in front of her, it felt and looked like there was no room left in her small flat. Hermione felt decidedly out of place as the two men regarded one-another. She wasn't used to this sort of … _Slytherin_-like posturing.

"My name is Phineas Black, and I've been working with Hermione on her project," he greeted, surprisingly cordially, while holding out his hand to shake.

"Of course, Mr Black, I remember you. You've come into Borgin and Burkes before," Tom replied and actually shook Phineas's hand. Hermione wasn't sure why she was surprised about that. What did she expect, for them to suddenly pull out their wands and duel to the death in her flat?

"Yes, that's correct. Although it was quite some time ago. You have quite the memory, Mr Riddle."

"I've been known for it."

"And you were the Head Boy, too, weren't you? I was pleased to hear that we had another Slytherin alum make Head. The Head Boy and Girl have been frightfully Gryffindor in the last decade," Phineas commented, causing Hermione to scowl at the slighting tone directed at her old House. She pretended to ignore the small look Tom sent her.

"That's correct. You were a Slytherin?"

"I'm a Black, aren't I? A Black who no longer associates himself with that _charming_family of mine, but a Black nonetheless. Where else do we belong?"

Hermione had to bite her tongue about Sirius, she was too intrigued watching this exchange. It was anything but a friendly introduction if you skimmed the surface, but the underlying tension was undeniable.

"Of course," Tom replied, his tone even and giving nothing away.

"Well, I believe that's sufficient enough chit-chat, wouldn't you say?" Phineas asked Tom. "Now we can discuss why we're all really here," he added, sending a meaningful glance to Hermione.

Hermione took this as her moment and turned to Tom. "Phineas has been trying to help me. He has, I guess you could say, taken over from Professor Dumbledore. Unfortunately, he has been unable to see the memory you were able to. Which is why," Hermione swallowed deeply, the words tasting awful in her mouth, "we think that you are somehow linked in all of this."

Hermione looked at Tom and noticed that while his face remained impassive, his entire body looked taut with tension. He was obviously not happy with her discussing what had happened with Phineas. Well, too bloody bad! This was not _his _problem, technically. She didn't give a damn about him and his stupid power games right now. Arrogant control freak!

"Over the course of the Veil's existence, very few people have been recorded as falling through the Veil by the Ministry," Phineas began in a lecturing tone. "To this day, the Ministry, as well as other research organisation's still don't understand what is beyond the Veil once one 'crosses over', so to speak. Most believe that falling through the Veil creates instant death … however, Hermione is the exception to this rule, as well as her colleague who we now assume returned to the correct time period."

"Which is why we are trying to understand why I turned up here, instead of my own time."

"From what Hermione has told me, I believe the woman wanted Hermione to do something … or complete something. How that is linked to you, we cannot work out."

Tom remained silent the entire time, and Hermione couldn't decide if this was a relief or perhaps even more worrying.

"Hermione told me that this woman appeared to you recently … encouraging you to go and find out Hermione's secret."

At this, Tom's passive stare hardened and Hermione wondered if she was the only one who felt the room drop several degrees and become decidedly … chilly.

"Don't suddenly become annoyed at her for telling me everything. You knew she would have as soon as you stepped into the room and saw me," Phineas said, picking up on Tom's mood as well—not that it was too difficult. "Besides, I think I've worked out something which might help."

"What's that?" Tom and Hermione both said simultaneously, causing Hermione to flush a bit at the eagerness of her tone.

"In our world, what is one of the only methods that allows people to see things that others are often not entitled to? For example, enter property or touch family artefacts."

Hermione bit down on her bottom lip. "Well, several things, the owner has to give you explicit permission … but the main one is …." Realisation dawned and her eyes widened at the implications.

"Blood," Tom said, quietly, a thoughtful look on his face. "So you believe—"

"That whoever it was could be possibly related to you in some way," Phineas finished impatiently.

Tom scowled at being interrupted and Hermione's mouth dropped open in shock, unable to believe it. "B-but—"

"Think about it carefully, please. Many wizarding families are able to ensure the protection their possessions by placing the type of magic whereby only family members can touch, access, or see the items. Wizarding families take great pride in blood and family."

"It just seems like a rather random guess, or assumption," Hermione said.

"Not when you've been around for as long as I have, Hermione," Phineas answered with a faint smirk. "Tell me, why is it that you don't even know this young man, yet he can view this memory. Why isn't it that I, an accomplished Legilimens, cannot? Even though we spent hours going over it?"

"Maybe you're not as accomplished as you think," Tom mused quietly.

Hermione turned to him in surprise. "Tom!"

He turned away from Phineas, who was now sneering, and looked at her. She didn't fail to notice the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "What? I'm just … covering all bases."

Hermione rolled her eyes and purposely looked away from him, annoyed at his rude comment.

"I can assure you that I'm quite accomplished, Mr Riddle," Phineas said, his voice mocking when he said Tom's name. "Not that I really care what a _boy_thinks."

Tom smirked. "Well, that is certainly a relief to hear, Mr Black. It's important that Hermione and I work with a highly skilled wizard."

Hermione's eyes widened. What exactly was Tom Riddle meaning with that statement? He made it sound like they were some kind of team. Hermione's lips thinned in annoyance, she wasn't in a team with _him_!

He, of course, looked far too pleased with himself which just managed to raise her hackles even more. Hermione chanced a glance at Phineas, who pulled off the haughty 'I'm pissed off' look quite handsomely.

"So … someone—a woman— of my blood, hm?" Tom mused contemplatively, as if he didn't just insult Phineas. "I will need to look through my family history to get a complete list of names."

"That's if it is that," Hermione said, still not sure about the whole thing. "What if it's not?"

"Then we start again. It has to be better than what you're currently doing." Phineas crossed his arms.

"Okay, say you're right, and he can view the memory because he's directly linked to the woman in some way … why did she send me here, and what will it mean?"

"Perhaps we'll see once I see which relative it is—that's if you are correct," Tom piped up.

Hermione's shoulders slumped. She still wasn't sure that this was the right way to go. But at the same time, she knew Phineas had seen enough in his career to come to the conclusions he did.

"I'm quietly confident," Phineas replied. "Besides, you've got all the time in the world, Hermione."

Hermione huffed. "Certainly seems like it, doesn't it?"

XXX

Tom left Hermione's flat early and quickly headed back to his own. He knew it had surprised Hermione that he had left so easily and didn't try to stay after Phineas Black, but that was part of the fun in dealing with her. He really enjoyed the look on her face when halfway through their discussion he calmly stood and explained that he needed an early night for work the next day. He didn't really; Tom had always been one of those people who could survive on very little sleep. He just knew that she was expecting a fight in getting him to leave, or that he would want to discuss things after Black left.

He could also admit to himself that after a few hours, he was sick of listening to Black, the biggest know-it-all on this side of Diagon Alley. Tom sneered, the man reminded him of a slightly darker Dumbledore, though he was without the sparkling eyes, ridiculous comments, and bad dress sense. Tom had a good idea who Black was, and if Black was part of the secret knowledge seeking group Tom thought he was, this would make things interesting.

He knew that Black could see straight through him as soon as he walked through Hermione's front door. Not that Tom really gave two shits … what was he going to do? Black was intelligent enough and a seeking answers just like Tom and Hermione, and knew that he now needed him to help Hermione with her far too fascinating predicament.

Her predicament was something that Tom hadn't been able to stop thinking about all day, along with the feelings of anticipation and excitement that came from knowing the secret behind Hermione Edwards—no, _Granger_. He had known all along that there was something not right about her. Not that that 'something not right' was a bad thing, in Tom's books. It was quite good actually. If only he could have broken through her Unspeakable tricks. Tom scowled when he thought about how difficult she had made that for him. And then how she had told him to do his worst, because she was going to tell him _anything_ outside of their little project. She was ridiculously reckless. Honestly, acting like that was sure to get one killed if they weren't careful. Not that _he_ wanted to kill Hermione _Granger_, but if she wasn't careful with that attitude of hers, someone else might try to.

Although her reluctance to share the rest of her memories wasn't the most annoying part of this. Tom was quietly confident that he could slowly pull certain things out of her. He had to admit that he didn't like the way Black was involved. He knew that Black was a very powerful Wizard, and knowledgeable, but Tom fancied himself to be powerful, too.

He knew that Black's little knowledge seeking group would be salivating for the story of Hermione … and Tom didn't want _them_to know. He knew that Black, while having some kind of disgusting altruistic side to actually help, would be slowly trying to convince Hermione to confide in him, and then he would be running back to his other minions and reporting to them.

Tom didn't like that. Hermione was not supposed to confide with Black. Tom was the one who saw the memory, Tom was the one who knew there was something different about Hermione, and Tom felt like he was the only one who saw her actual potential. How was it that such a clever witch was content with just working in the Ministry? Even if she was an Unspeakable, which was semi-respectable in Tom's opinion.

Besides, he was the only one who had been allowed to view the memory. If Black was meant to see the memory, he would have been allowed to. But it was blocked from him, and not Tom. Therefore, what right did Black have sitting around dithering about how smart he was and the answers to all of Hermione's problems?

Tom thought it was quite simple, the knowledge wasn't meant for Black, it was meant for Tom ... He was meant to solve the problem. It was almost as though she had been sent to him for some reason, but at the same time, he had a feeling it was much bigger than that …

_Don't ever touch me again._

_That kiss meant nothing_.

… _It doesn't matter now, anyway._

Tom scowled. After _everything_that had happened in the last twenty four hours, that sentence kept reappearing at the most inconvenient and unexpected times. The thing that bothered him the most about it was that she wasn't even taking responsibility for it. Instead, she was acting as if it had been part of his 'plan' all along. She acted as some innocent party who had nothing to do with it. He let out a small, annoyed noise at that. She was just as responsible as he was. If Tom wanted information, he could certainly get it without adding a kiss into the mix. He was getting tired of her excuses, tired of her diversions, and most of all Tom was getting tired of her denial.

XXX

_She was sitting at a campsite, in the Forest of Dean, and it reminded her of when they were hunting for Horcruxes. She looked around before standing from the old tree she had found herself leaning against. She walked to the tent, so familiar, and stepped inside. _

_Harry, Ron, and … Tom? sat at the small camp table playing cards. They all looked up from their game when she entered the tent. _

_"What are you all doing?" Hermione asked._

_"We're playing cards," Ron answered, as though it was was obvious._

_"Hermione, come play, and remember it's my turn," Harry said._

_"Turn for what?" _

_"Er, my turn to wear the locket," Harry replied, before handing Tom another card._

_Hermione looked down, and realised that she was wearing Slytherin's locket, only it was about five times the size of what she remembered it to be. She panicked; Tom couldn't see that they had his Horcrux! She quickly grabbed it and tried stuffing it down the front of her shirt but it kept slipping from her fingers. Quickly, quickly, she chanted to herself. Tom was about to look again, she knew it. She looked up in horror as his head turned to face her, almost in slow motion. Finally, she was able to grasp the locket, and a feeling of triumph passed through her as she felt the locket slip down her shirt and lay in between her breasts._

_"Why are you taking turns to wear a locket?" Tom asked, looking between the three of them._

_"Because it's so fashionable," Ron replied, again, as if the question were obvious._

_Hermione quickly went to sit down, and was dismayed to find that the only seat left was the one next to Tom. Still, she sat down anyway, looking at his cards. Even though she was looking straight at them, she couldn't see them. _

_"Stop looking at my cards."_

_Hermione looked up at Tom, to see him smirking at her. She then looked around to find herself in her apartment bedroom again. _

_"Where are Harry and Ron?" she asked in dismay._

_"They had Potions," Tom answered._

_"Oh," she replied. It did make perfect sense. They always had Potions on Mondays. She absentmindedly looked over to the hall which led out of her bedroom and realised it was now the seventh floor corridor at Hogwarts._

_Suddenly she was flat on her back and Tom was hovering over her. He leaned down and kissed her and Hermione felt like she couldn't breathe at first. The Horcrux was digging into her chest as Tom pulled her tightly against him. _

_"Hang on a second," she muttered as he began kissing his way down her neck._

_"What?" he asked, looking up from his ministrations, sounding frustrated._

_She grabbed the locket and pulled it from between them before chucking it to the side. "There," she said, before pulling him down and kissing him again. She could kiss him in her dreams, and no one would know. Not even Tom. She could kiss him and there was no more guilt. Ron had left, so he would never know. Harry was with Ron, so he would never know. No one would ever know. _

_She ran her hands through his silky hair, and then down his back. The emotions she felt at the idea of being free to be with him was like a rush. She felt his hands begin to move down her body, over her breasts, her waist, and then gripping her hips. Hermione's hips moved against his, and she moaned. She could feel him; he was hard, and pushing against her. She rolled her hips and revelled in the low growl he released as he returned the favour._

_His hands moved to the buttons of her muggle jeans, and Hermione felt frantic because she couldn't help but think they were running out of time. He unbuttoned her jeans and then pulled the zipper down. Cool fingers snuck underneath her knickers, and she gasped when he reached his destination. Moaning, she reached for him, wanting to return the favour, but then Tom pulled away from her. It caused her to cry out in frustration and need._

_"We need to go somewhere," he said._

_"Why?" she asked._

_"Because we need to," he said and then quickly pulled her up as he stood up._

_She followed him down the seventh floor corridor before he suddenly pushed her into a random alcove._

_"Quick, someone's coming," he said._

_Oh no, they were out after hours! She heard the tell-tale sound of someone walking down the hall and Hermione shrunk back into the alcove as the footsteps became louder and louder. She swore they stopped right outside of their alcove. An icy feeling settled in her as she felt Tom push her further back into the alcove, and stand in front of her. Then, the footsteps started again, and Hermione felt a rush of relief as she heard the person disappear down the corridor. _

_Tom turned around to face her, and Hermione found herself smiling at him. "That was close, we were almost caught," she commented._

_"That would never happen," he said imperiously._

Hermione's eyes snapped open, and she sucked in a harsh breath, her heart hammering in her chest as she gripped her bed sheets tightly. Her eyes quickly focused and she felt relieved to find she was still in her room.

What kind of dream was _that_?

XXX

**There you have it. Thank you for reading! **

**Well, Hermione can officially join the Voldemort 'adult dream' fantasy club now, can't she? *lol* Not that I know what that is or anything *awkward cough*. **

**Thank you to those who continuously review. To the humble fanfic writer, your reviews are payment of the prettiest gold.**

**For anon reviews, I post replies on the Tomione Forum (link in my profile). For those who have disable their pm feature, I don't reply to reviews as I assume you aren't into receiving them? And I'm lazy enough as it is.**

** **


	14. Chapter 14

**Authors Note: **What's this? An update? SURELY NOT.

I am genuinely sorry about the long wait for this. If you have read my profile recently, you will see that I had a fair bit of bad luck with this chapter. It certainly wouldn't have taken this long to update otherwise.

Dark Lord *sighs dramatically*: Get to the point, woman. Nobody cares about your grovelling.

Rightio. Please go to AFF (link in my profile) if you are old enough, for an explicit version of this chapter.

Dark Lord: Now we're talking.

Okay, okay. Again, I apologise for how long this has taken. Thank you to Nerys for reading this chapter over and making sure it wasn't completely awful, any mistakes are mine—

Dark Lord: The mistake is including that Phineas Bla—

_OKAY_, yes, I'm sure. Anyway, enjoy the read! Oh, and HEAPS of songs inspired this chapter, but here is my main playlist:

Hurricane - MS MR, Helicopter - Bloc Party, Bizarre Love Triangle - New Order, Clair de lune - Flight Facilities feat. Christine Hoberg, the Arctic Light - Marika Takeuchi, MysticRiver - Marika Takeuchi

* * *

><p>XXX<p>

"I still say … Gryffindor."

"Shut up, Riddle," Hermione snapped.

"Yes, Granger the Gryffindor. I can just see it now …" he trailed off and pretended to look thoughtful, before a small, amused smirk appeared.

"Don't call me that," she grumbled.

It was Friday evening and a couple of nights after she had dealt with Riddle and Phineas together in her flat. They were both currently going over the work she had so far completed… together. But instead of trying to work together (as painful as that was for her to admit), Riddle kept trying to get information from her. He was switching between being sneaky and outright asking her things. Hermione likened it to being like a very spoiled child with a new toy.

"What, a Gryffindor?" he asked with a smirk, interrupting her thoughts.

"No."

"Your name? But that's your real last name."

Hermione gave him an incredulous look. "Don't get used to calling me that. I don't want it to accidentally slip out."

Now it was Tom's turn to give her an incredulous look. "You think that I would make such a mistake?"

"Well, I don't know." Of course she knew that he wouldn't. He was just trying to annoy her by using it in the first place. Still, it felt like a little bit of revenge for her, after having to put up with him all afternoon, by annoying him in return.

Tom didn't respond, merely giving her a look, before he started sifting through the Hermione's notes again.

"How many times do you need to go through notes," he finally asked, with just a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"What are you talking about?" She raised an eyebrow.

"You've read them, I've read them." He gestured at the parchment; a smirk appeared on his face as her expression darkened at his reading of them while she was unconscious. "Why do we need to do this again?"

"Because since we are working together, there is something we might have missed separately that we might find together." Hermione crossed her arms and bit down on the inside of her cheek. He was the one who bloody insisted on working on this together!

Riddle had the audacity to give her another look. "Yes, well, we already know all of this-"

"Fine then," Hermione snapped, and put her readings down rather forcefully. "Have you got a list of all the female ancestors in your family yet?"

"No."

Hermione almost groaned out loud. Almost. As if he didn't know a basic list of his ancestors. She was sure he would have it memorised already. He had been standoffish about the topic of his family over the last couple of days, and she knew he was doing it on purpose. He obviously didn't want to risk revealing that he was the Heir of Slytherin. Well, news flash, Voldemort, I already know!

"Well, we need to get a list as soon as possible," Hermione said instead of voicing her true thoughts.

"I don't have access to any Wizarding Genealogy books," Riddle replied, face blank.

Hermione sighed. "Well, where can we easily access your family tree? We could make a request to the Ministry … but that could take weeks."

"Indeed, it certainly does."

"Well there's one other place we could go …" Hermione mused.

Tom smirked. "You want to go to Hogwarts?"

"Why not? I was going to Hogwarts this weekend anyway."

"What for?" Riddle asked.

"If you must know, Minerva invited me to tea this Saturday afternoon."

"You didn't tell me that," Riddle replied.

"Well I certainly don't have to tell you where I'm going," Hermione snapped. What an idiot.

"But if we're working together on this project-"

"What I do in my private time is none of your business, Riddle," Hermione cut across him, annoyed.

"I didn't think you had a private life. I thought it was all dedicated to going back to your own time."

"Well, most of the time, yes. But Minerva is a friend-"

"I don't care for an explanation about the intricacies of your petty friendships." Riddle waved a dismissive hand.

"But you were just making it your business!" Hermione snapped in exasperation.

"Well, what I was meaning to say, before you went about lecturing me … was why didn't you tell me you were going to Hogwarts? That way we could have avoided you haranguing me about my ancestors."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. Just looking at his smug expression was enough for her to want to raise her wand at him.

"Fine. Will you come to Hogwarts on Saturday and we'll look at it then?" she asked through gritted teeth.

Tom quirked an eyebrow as he leaned back on her couch, notes forgotten. "I will come with you to Hogwarts and get the information while you take tea, or whatever it is you will be doing."

Hermione was about to harass him about the fact that he didn't want her there, but that was a whole other minefield she didn't want to deal with. She knew he was being secretive about his ancestry, because he didn't want her to know that he was the Heir of Slytherin. Merlin knows what she would have to put up with if the Veil person had been a man instead of a woman...

"Besides," he added with a smirk, "I'd know as soon as you left Diagon anyway."

Of course, his ridiculous tracking spell. What kind of overbearing, crazy man was he? Scratch that, it was Lord Voldemort, it was stupid of her to even question it. So instead of responding to his taunt, she asked, "You don't want my help with that?"

"No."

Plastering an annoyed look on her face so he would believe she was really put-out, she quickly got up from the couch and stomped into the kitchen. That should do it, she thought as she put the kettle on and began getting things ready for a long-needed cup of tea. Hearing his footsteps as he got up and followed her, she turned around to face him. He had a smug expression on his face as he eyed her.

"Cup of tea?" she asked primly, turning back around to begin making her own.

Instead of responding, he began to open and rifle through her small pantry.

"What are you doing now?" she asked.

"Don't you have anything better than tea?" he asked, as he looked through her food stores.

"What, didn't you get a chance to go through my food the other night as well?" she asked snidely.

"Unfortunately not," he replied plainly, as if they were only having a conversation about the weather. "I did say that your wards were actually tough to break through, didn't I?" He gave her a brief look and she scoffed at him. "Though it doesn't look like I was missing out on much," he muttered as he picked up a packet of plain crackers and frowned at it before placing it back down again.

"Oh! I have a wonderful idea," Hermione suddenly said rather brightly.

Tom turned and looked at her, a suspicious expression on his face at her tone. "And what is that?"

Hermione's expression switched from bright to a sneer within a second. "You could go home," she deadpanned and crossed her arms.

He had the audacity to chuckle, before moving towards her. "Now, that's not very hospitable, Granger."

"You're one to talk," she replied, trying to ignore how closely he was standing to her. Someone really needed to pull him aside and explain the importance of personal space.

"What do you mean?" he asked, now standing right over her.

She caught a faint whiff of that spicy cologne he wore and, without warning there was a flash back of his hands gripping her hips tightly whilst she writhed against him in her dream. She could feel her skin immediately start to heat up. No, this was not helping at all! Clearing her throat, she stubbornly met his gaze.

"Talking to me about manners, when you broke into my home the other night and threatened me," she said, trying to keep her voice level.

The look he gave her felt intense. "But I had to," he finally replied, causing Hermione to scoff again. "I knew I was involved some way, and sure enough, I am. Now I can help you."

Yeah, right. "I don't need your help," she practically spat and stiffened when his hands came up to rest on her shoulders.

"You don't?"

She swallowed heavily, trying to ignore her body's traitorous desire to lean into him, and instead tried to lean back, huffing in annoyance at the bench behind her didn't give any leeway to move. "No."

"Now you're being ridiculous," he replied, and started rubbing small circles into her shoulders with his thumbs.

"Stop that," she protested.

Riddle's thumbs paused in their surprisingly soothing movements, but his hands did not move. He looked at her closely, as if he were memorising her. It was making her feel things that were completely inappropriate. The absurdity of the current situation was something that she thought she'd never find herself in.

"It must be so hard being you," he finally murmured.

He might has well have yelled it, his words were so jarring. Her defences were immediately up. "What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Have you ever, in your entire life, done something purely because you wanted to?"

Hermione spluttered. "What are you talking about? That's the most ridiculous statement I've ever heard. Of course I have." She immediately wanted to prove him wrong; she wanted to point out a million things that she did for herself.

He quirked an eyebrow, a disbelieving expression on his face. "It must be so hard feeling so responsible for so many people … and things. How do you hold it all on your small shoulders, Hermione?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," she finally replied. Her voice was calm, but inside she couldn't help but wonder about his statement, and the truth of it. She was a carer, someone who looked after others. It always came naturally to her, yet now she almost felt bad about it.

His hands came up from her shoulders and rested lightly on her neck. She felt his fingers lightly stroke the skin there, causing her breath to stutter.

"Don't I?" he asked. One of his hands delved into her wild curls and gripped it so her head was tilted right back, so she could only look at him. He stepped right up to her, their bodies only lightly touching, but it shot through like Hermione like electricity.

"No," she answered. "You don't."

He bent down closer to her, their lips were now so close that all she would have to do was push herself up a fraction and they would kiss. She was again reminded of that vivid dream, and the lack of guilt she felt at the thought of kissing him and no one finding out. How easy it would all be …

"I've been inside your mind, Hermione," he murmured, bring his other hand up to lightly cup her cheek. "I may not have seen your memories, but I've felt your emotions. All of that responsibility … repression … control … all of it building up and bursting at the seams." His words were so gentle they caressed over her like a gentle breeze. "Don't you ever just want to do something for yourself?"

Hermione closed her eyes and ignored the subtle whisper at the back of her mind that agreed with him. She should be ashamed, but all she was thinking of was, just like in her dream, how could she justify this? What sort of person was she when a small part of her wanted to agree with him?

But wasn't this what he was best at? He seduced people by knowing what their deepest desires were and, regardless of morals and laws, how to obtain them … with his help, of course. When she was wearing the locket during the Horcrux hunt, and he wasn't insulting her muggle heritage, it was always about how much smarter she was compared Harry and Ron - "for a mudblood", of course. At one stage, he had even tried to sympathise with her and her desire to know everything. Try being the key word, because despite how tempting his words were, Hermione never fell for them in the end. Unlike Ron, a small voice at the back of her mind reminded her. She guiltily banished the nasty voice, it wouldn't help anything.

"You think you've got me all figured out, don't you, Riddle?" Hermione's voice was a low murmur, keeping with their close proximity.

He looked at her contemplatively. "You're not as difficult to figure out as you think."

Hermione smirked. "That's where you're wrong, Riddle. You see, there's a fatal flaw to your whole approach …"

Riddle raised an eyebrow. "Oh, do enlighten me."

Hermione reached up and placed her hands on his chest, carefully ignoring how warm he felt through his robes. "You think that I don't see right through you. You think that a few well placed words or manipulations will work with me. Well, Riddle, I do enjoy to disappoint you, and … you've lost this round." She gently pushed him back and felt the air rush around them, and she realised it was their magic, she could feel it.

He didn't react at first, allowing her to move him, so that he now stood a couple of feet away from her.

"If you think your little games are going to work on me," she continued lowly, "you're dead wrong."

He tilted his head thoughtfully at her, his dark eyes intense, before he smirked. "You assume that I'm playing games."

"Aren't you?"

"Still in denial, are we?" he asked instead.

"What?" Hermione found herself spluttering slightly.

"Indeed 'what'," Tom replied and moved out of the kitchen and quickly picked up his work satchel. "I'll see you on Saturday, then."

Hermione was indignant. How dare he think it was okay to just walk to casually away? Did he actually think that would give him the upper hand? Was this phase two of his plan or something?

"Unless, of course, there was something else?" he asked, his voice low and melodic … the kind that made girls weak in the knees, Hermione was sure of it.

She bit down on her bottom lip and met his dark gaze. "No, Saturday's fine." She swallowed heavily.

He looked at her before nodding and walking out the door. Hermione groaned and leaned back on her kitchen counter, not exactly sure who had won that round anymore.

XXX

Saturday had arrived, and Tom found himself sitting in Hogwarts library looking through the Genealogy books. Hermione had left him as soon as they arrived, and he had now been in the library for over an hour.

He had to admit that it was surreal being back here. As usual, it was like nothing had changed, and Tom could have just been there studying, or finishing an assignment. He actually enjoyed the feeling of being back. This was the only place he had ever truly considered as being home. He hadn't really been back to the school since he graduated. Once Slughorn's invitations dried up, due to Tom ignoring them, he decided that his return to the school would be on his own terms.

Not that this was such a bad way to return. He couldn't wait to see that old fool Dumbledore's reaction to see him working with Hermione. Of course, he wouldn't really be able to say anything, because without Tom's help, Hermione would have no one who could see who the woman was. At that thought, a voice immediately crept in and asked whether he actually wanted to help Hermione go back to her time. It was something that had been niggling at him for the last couple of days. With her knowledge of what could potentially happen in the future …

And even though she claimed to not know him in the future, there was no guarantee she didn't know of him. Tom knew that he was destined for great things. It wasn't just arrogance either, Tom had an undeniable feeling that constantly coursed through his blood that he was meant for more. He had held onto that feeling since he was a young boy, forced to live in that godforsaken orphanage. When he was told that he was a Wizard, Tom saw it as his real beginning, everything before then was just inconsequential now.

Therefore, he would not be surprised if Hermione knew of him. It didn't really seem like a far flung theory. When one looked at the way she had behaved with him, compared to other people, as well as some of the things she had said … well, it was more than likely.

He sighed as he looked down at the list he had been making. Here was the key to it all ... A list that would hopefully contain the woman who had appeared to both of them. He was lucky that some of the books held pictures, especially of the more notable witches and wizards who had actually achieved something. Not to mention that the Wizarding World in Britain was quite small and pureblood families were quite well-documented through history. He was able to cross quite a few of them just by cross referencing alone. He looked over the remaining list again, even though he already knew them by heart:

Heredia Banks (b1010 - d1115)

Eurydice Macmillan (b1220 - d1242)

Magdalen Nott (b1510 - d1560)

Abbatissa Montague (b1701 - d1760)

Mildred Pyrites (b1755 - d1790)

Delphine Parkes (b1860 - d1920)

Merope Gaunt (b1907 - d1926)

He was pretty sure he could cross his own mother off the list. The stories told of his mother indicated that she was no higher than a squib hag, and while the woman who appeared to him wasn't a great beauty, she was by no means a hag. However, because he had never seen a picture of his mother, he kept her on the list just in case.

He wondered where he could actually access pictures of the women listed. The Ministry was one potential place, but like he had discussed already with Hermione, requests for information on family and ancestors would take weeks.

Speaking of which, Tom looked up at the sound of footsteps and saw Hermione quickly approaching. A small part of him almost wanted to hide his progress, but he knew that was pointless. If he wanted to eventually get information out of her, he had to give some up as well. Tom wasn't too worried, it wasn't like the information would reveal his true secrets ...

Hermione sat down heavily on the chair, looking tired, without greeting him. Trying to blow a stray curl from her eyes without success, she looked at him. "Well?" she demanded.

Tom raised an eyebrow at her. "Has anyone ever told you how bossy you are?" he asked mockingly.

He watched as she rolled her eyes in annoyance, but her cheeks still turned a bit pink. Sitting up straighter, she turned her attention to the parchments laid across the desk.

"This is my list," he finally replied with when she didn't offer any sort of comeback.

Hermione took the list and he watched as her brown eyes quickly scanned over it.

"Well, you were able to cross a few off," she said as she looked.

"There were pictures … you know, society, weddings, general, Hogwarts …"

"Ah." She nodded, her attention still on the names. "So, now all we need to do is get a picture of each of these women."

"Correct."

"We could make a Ministry request … though I really don't want to wait that long." She hummed thoughtfully to herself. "Or I could talk to Phineas."

Tom ignored the anger he felt at hearing her talk about Black. The sooner he could cut the fool from their project, the better. His face remained artfully blank as he watched Hermione think over the list.

"You think Black will have that sort of information?" Tom asked instead.

"Perhaps. It's worth asking," she muttered, before taking her wand out, making a copy of the list and folding it neatly before putting it in her robe pocket.

"Well, I know people who still have some of those surnames, so perhaps I will ask them first?" he replied as they both stood from their respective seats.

His attention was caught as he watched as she ran a hand down her robes, straightening them up a bit. He quickly averted his gaze when he realised just what his gaze was lingering on. She had realised too, because now her cheeks had that small dusting of pink that they often had when she was embarrassed or flustered. Tom smirked at the response and flicked his wand, watching as all the books quickly flew back to their places, enjoying getting that sort of reaction out of her. She couldn't lie about that anymore, either.

Hermione cleared her throat awkwardly. "What's that spell?" she asked, sounding desperate to talk about anything other than the obvious tension in the room.

"Just something I taught myself," Tom replied lightly.

"Oh …" Hermione bit down on her lip, looking thoughtful.

Tom sighed. "Do you want me to teach you it?"

Her eyes widened a bit and her gaze met his. "You would?"

Tom shrugged. "As long as you're not too difficult. I don't waste my time with just anyone … or imbeciles, for that matter."

He watched with pleasure as her expression darkened. She always took the bait easily - especially when the insult was directed at her intelligence. She huffed and began to quickly walk off. His long legs easily kept up with her, which earned him an even darker glare when she realised.

"The nerve," she muttered. "... Imbecile, honestly!"

Tom didn't reply. He got more than enough value from his comments through her angry mutterings than if he stoked the fire any more. Plus, it wouldn't look good if they started firing hexes at one-another in the middle of Hogwarts.

They had just left the library when Hermione turned and looked at him in question, obviously already over his teasing.

"What?" Tom asked.

"Aren't you going to go visit anyone?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

Tom gave her a look. "I had no intention … why?"

The secret smile she tried to hide instantly made Tom suspicious.

"What are you up to?" he asked immediately.

"Nothing," she replied, looking away from him. "I just find it hard to believe that the former Head Boy wouldn't want to visit with any of his old teachers, that's all."

"Granger," he almost growled.

She stopped and looked to be about to chastise him for using her real surname when an annoyingly jolly voice broke the tense atmosphere.

"Tom, my boy!"

Tom turned in horror to the sight of Horace Slughorn waddling his way down the hall towards them. He quickly took another look at Hermione, who looked to be trying to hold in her amusement. Oh, so she wanted to play it this way, did she?

"Professor Slughorn," Tom greeted with a note of pleasure and surprise. "How good it is to see you." He ignored the quiet snort from beside him. If he were standing any closer to the bint, he would have given her a good elbow to the ribs.

"And you, Tom, and you!" Slughorn replied and then waggled a finger. "But I'm surprised! It's almost like you snuck into the castle. If it wasn't for Miss Edwards here, I wouldn't even have known you'd be visiting."

Tom quickly sent an admonishing look towards Hermione. "Hermione, you've ruined my surprise."

Hermione was about to reply with something before Slughorn swiftly began talking again. Some things never change.

"Now, now, Tom, Miss Edwards didn't mean anything by it." He sent Hermione a friendly smile. "I am so glad to have met such a bright witch," he added.

Tom glanced at Hermione and noticed how her cheeks turned slightly pink.

"She is very bright, isn't she?" Tom replied.

"Yes, yes. So nice to see you with such a bright girl, Tom." He proceeded to lean towards Hermione and gave her a wink. "Perhaps you can convince Tom to stay here and take a job at the Ministry …" His attention turned back to Tom. "Dugald McPhail was just asking about you at my last party, you know."

Tom took a deep breath; his placid smile belied his annoyance at his old Professor. "Was he?"

"Yes, yes." The annoying old man turned to Hermione again. "Tom was offered many prestigious positions in the Ministry, you know. Turned them all down, though. To do ... what was it again, Tom?"

"Travel," Tom replied, hoping his growing annoyance wasn't becoming obvious.

"Such a shame," Slughorn replied, looking suitably put out.

"I, er, think travelling is quite important … when you're young, that is," Hermione awkwardly added.

Tom quickly glanced at her and she gave him a 'what?' look before shrugging.

Slughorn shook his head. "I guess I'll never understand this generation," he replied good naturedly.

"Well, I suppose we must be off," Tom said, and looked at Hermione for her confirmation.

"Oh, nonsense! You've got to stay," Slughorn said. "I'm having a party tonight, and I insist you both attend!"

Tom briefly flirted with the idea of pushing his old Head of House down the nearby stairs. He imagined Slughorn bouncing down, with nothing to break his fall … how satisfying. He turned to look at Hermione who looked as though going to a party the last thing she'd want to do as well.

"I'm afraid what I'm wearing is quite unsuitable," Hermione said, gesturing at the rather casual skirt and blouse.

"Don't be ridiculous, my girl, I'm sure you can fit into something of Minerva's," Slughorn replied, before turning to Tom. "I'm sure we can rustle up something for you as well, Tom."

Tom highly doubted that. He shuddered at the thought of wearing the robes of one of the other Professors.

"Well, Tom, there's nothing stopping you from going," Hermione said a little too sweetly. "I'm sure you'll want to catch up with all your old chums. I, on the other hand, am quite busy … So I apologise, Professor, but I don't believe-"

"Actually, Hermione," Tom started, and took a step towards her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and had to stop himself from smirking when he felt her immediately tense. "You said that we had reached a good point in the research just before, and that there was nothing to do until you either contacted the Ministry, or Mr Black," Tom replied, enjoying how her eyes narrowed at him.

"Mr Black? As in Phineas Black?" Slughorn caught on too quickly.

"Er, yes?" Hermione said awkwardly.

"Oh, well, Phineas and I go way back! In fact, he might even be here tonight. I provide him with potions for the work he does, you know," he replied in a conspiratorial manner, tapping his nose.

"Well, that's, um … wonderful," Hermione replied.

"The point being, dear, is that Phineas will be here tonight, so what a perfect time to talk to him?"

"Oh. Yes, that's true," she answered slowly.

Tom felt her shoulders slump in defeat under his arm. Serves her right. Besides, it would be interesting to go to a Slug Club party with her. Who knows what new information he would be able to get from the other guests. The parties were always the perfect atmosphere for Wizarding World gossip. Not that Tom cared much for idle gossip … but there was much to be said for what you could use against people with the right information.

"Well, it's settled then!" Slughorn exclaimed and clapped his hands together. "I'll see you both in a couple of hours at the party."

And with that, Tom watched the man waddle off again. Immediately he felt himself being pushed and a loud huff next to him notified him that Hermione was currently walking off muttering.

"Thanks a lot." She glared at him when he finally managed to catch up to her.

Tom raised an eyebrow at her. "You were the one who notified Slughorn of my presence. Therefore, you can suffer," he replied in amusement.

"Technically it was Professor Dumbledore who did that," Hermione replied, holding a finger up for emphasis.

"Typical," Tom muttered with annoyance.

"Speaking of which, perhaps Professor Dumbledore can lend you some dress robes," Hermione said, barely holding a gleeful smile in, looking at him contemplatively. "You both look as though you're about the same height …"

"If this is your way of trying to provoke me, you seriously need some more practice," Tom replied, internally shuddering at the thought of wearing anything that old fruitcake deemed as stylish. "Besides, I can easily transfigure these robes into something more suitable."

Hermione looked at his robes and then huffed, muttering something along the lines of men 'having it so much easier'.

"You, on the other hand …" Tom trailed off and gestured at her outfit.

She stopped, put her hands on her hips, and turned to scowl at him. "What?"

"Well, you couldn't even transfigure that into something acceptable."

He watched as a disbelieving expression appeared on her face, before her eyes rolled and she turned to go. "I'm going to find Minerva and get ready for this ridiculous thing. Don't follow me," she snapped.

Her bossy nature was always highly amusing, Tom thought, as he watched her stomp off.

"What am I supposed to do while you take hours trying to tame that hair of yours?" he called out after her.

"Not my problem!" she snapped back, not even bothering to turn around as she stormed off back down the corridor.

XXX

"Well I'm glad you're going, at least it means I won't be bored," Minerva said, the muted sounds of the party travelling down the corridor they walked.

"Why do you go, then?" Hermione asked smoothing down the pretty purple robes Minerva had lent her for the night for what felt like the millionth time.

"I do admit that I normally pretend I'm too busy marking assignments to go. But as you've experienced, Slughorn can be very persuasive. Besides, you never know who is going to be at a Slughorn party."

"You mean Alphard might be there?" Hermione asked and grinned at Minerva's telling blush.

"Well, he's been Owling me again," Minerva replied, looking slightly guilty.

Hermione held in the urge to groan at the on and off nature of their relationship. Although, she couldn't really judge relationships, could she? Considering the fact that her and Riddle were doing some kind of weird dance, and oh, the ever so wonderful fact that she was practically engaged to someone who wasn't even born yet. No, she couldn't judge at all.

"So, what's happening between you and Riddle?" the other woman asked, obviously trying to detract from her own love life and inadvertently honing in on Hermione's thoughts.

"Nothing," Hermione replied a little too quickly, causing Minerva to look at her disbelievingly. "Er, would you believe me if I said it's complicated?"

Minerva raised her eyebrows. "I would actually … though that doesn't automatically disqualify you from telling me though," she added, sounding somewhat stern, like the teacher that she was.

Hermione grimaced and looked around before sighing in relief. "Oh, look, we're here!" she exclaimed in fake enthusiasm gesturing at the entrance of the party, causing Minerva to give her a look. "We can discuss it later, I promise," Hermione whispered to her as they walked through the entrance.

Hermione looked around wistfully at the room. Even though she hadn't exactly loved going to Slughorn's gatherings in the past, it was a reminder of something familiar, something she knew. The room was lit in golden light, little bright fairies flitting around groups of wizards and witches engaged in lively conversation.

"Ah, Minerva and Miss Edwards!" Slughorn greeted happily near the doorway. "You both look lovely. Miss Edwards, I do believe I saw Tom speaking with Phineas Black over by the drinks table. Now, off you go, enjoy yourselves!"

Riddle and Phineas were talking? This caused Hermione to worry immensely. She wasn't blind to the obvious instant loathing between the two men. Her eyes quickly flitted around the room until they met a pair of familiar dark ones intently watching her across the room. Riddle.

Minerva, who had been stopped by a wizard with an exceptionally large top hat quickly waved her on when she said she was going to the drinks table, with a promise to 'talk later'. Obviously Hermione wouldn't escape her interrogations that easily.

When she made it over to the drinks table, Riddle and Phineas both turned to her, with quite differing expressions on their faces. Phineas greeted her charmingly with a kiss to the hand and compliment on her dress, which Hermione accepted with grace.

When her attention turned to Riddle, however, his expression caused her mouth to suddenly go dry. His eyes, dark and intent, caused her to breath to catch. He took the chance to take her hand in his, his fingers rubbing against her palm in a surprisingly soft manner. When his lips met her knuckles, Hermione hoped that the jolt she felt go through her was just a mental reaction, and wasn't physically obvious. In return, his eyes - if even possible - seemed to gleam.

Okay, obviously not only a mental reaction.

"You clean up well," he finally said.

Okay, spell broken, Hermione thought with some annoyance. Clean up ... well? What was she, a dirty old cauldron or something?

"As do you," she sniffed, looking him up and down.

Okay, that really was an understatement. Riddle looked dashing in his severe black, transfigured dress robes. On anyone else it would look like they were trying to poorly impersonate a muggle priest, but on Riddle, it looked powerful and almost regal.

An amused smirk graced his face at her words. "Pretty good for late notice," he replied.

"Indeed," Hermione replied, giving him a tight smile.

He chuckled at her and squeezed her hand, causing Hermione to realise that yes, they were still holding hands. She quickly pulled hers away, trying to not be obviously embarrassed. She really hoped that Phineas wasn't noticing any of this … She chanced a glance at the older man and was relieved to find his attention had been distracted by the arrival of some hors d'oeuvres. Thank Merlin.

"Would you care to dance, Hermione?" Phineas asked, after popping a mouthful of something strange-looking in his mouth.

"Er, sure," Hermione replied, taking his hand. Chancing a small glance at Riddle, she noticed his impassive expression as he watched the two of them.

But before anything could be said, Phineas had swept her off to the small dance floor, and she watched Tom turn his attention to the drinks table.

"I believe you have news," Phineas said as soon as they were comfortably dancing.

"Tom said something?" Hermione asked disbelievingly.

"No, I'm just asking the person who will actually tell me something."

"Oh. Well, we have a list of female ancestors … Some were able to be ruled out because a picture was already available. But the others-"

"You're wondering where you could source pictures?" Phineas asked.

"Yes."

"Well, the Ministry would be obvious, but you'd have a lengthy wait. Your second bet, if they are pureblood, is to approach other families linked to them," he explained.

"That's what I had considered, too. I was wondering though, if you had any sources?"

"Well, I can help with the families - the ones who are more liberal, of course. Bring me the list soon and we can go over it."

"Okay," Hermione replied.

They slipped into a comfortable silence, Hermione content to look around the room and people watch, noting that she was getting some looks from people herself; obviously wondering who she was and why they had never seen her before.

She noticed Minerva, who was still chatting away to the same man that she had left her with. She realised her friend looked slightly distracted, and when she followed her line of sight, she realised it was because Alphard Black was standing on the other side of the room. Hermione sighed when she realised that Black was with Malfoy and Lestrange. Great, just great. She watched as Black sent Minerva covert glances, even though the three men were currently surrounded by several young witches.

Of course she couldn't help herself in seeking out Riddle. She justified that she needed to keep and eye on him as technically they were invited together. After a short time she found him talking to that stupid chit Holly Fudge. Hermione realised that this Slug Club party vaguely resembled some kind of reunion of the most annoying people in the forties - bar an exceptional few, of course.

She couldn't help but watch the way Holly flicked her hair and gave Riddle all of her attention, smiling prettily and laughing in all the right places. Pathetic, just pathetic. She was not jealous; no, not at all. She just thought it was idiotic, that was all.

"You should be careful about how involved you get with him, you know."

Phineas's statement caused her to flinch slightly, she realised with embarrassment that her people watching wasn't very discreet at all.

"We're not involved," she replied automatically and internally cringed, feeling like she was telling a very bad lie.

Phineas looked at her in a way which confirmed her inner-thoughts. "Right. Well, I'm not your father - thank Merlin - so that's about as involved as I'll get. If I can add one more thing though …"

Hermione stopped herself from rolling her eyes. "And what is that?"

"You need to work better at your denials."

Still in denial are we? Riddle's words reverberated through her again.

"Thanks," she snapped.

Phineas outright chuckled and they came to a stop when the music ended. "Thank you for the dance, young lady. I need to go speak with someone, but I'll owl you later, okay?"

"Alright," Hermione replied, and they both left the dance floor.

Hermione noticed that Riddle was still talking to that bint … well; in all honesty, it never really left her notice that he was talking to her. What would they manage to talk about that whole time? Surely his plans to take over the wizarding world didn't match her views on the latest collection at Madame Malkins.

She was still stuck in her thoughts when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Spinning around she had to hold in the groan when she realised it was Alex Lestrange.

"Oh, hello," she greeted a bit awkwardly. "How are you, Alex?"

"I'm well. And yourself?" he asked.

"Very good, thank you."

"Look, I, er, wanted to apologise for everything-"

"It's already forgotten. Really," Hermione answered quickly. And it had been. It actually seemed like ages since she had last seen the wizard.

"Oh, right. That's good. So … how's your project coming along?"

Hermione wanted to groan. She didn't understand Alex Lestrange. He was always so weird around her, making conversations seem like more work than what they had to be. She wondered how soon she could escape him … She discreetly looked for Minerva, and her eyes widened slightly as she watched Minerva walk out of the room and into the hallway with Alphard following a few seconds later.

"Hermione?" Alex asked and Hermione flushed, realising that she had completely ignored his question.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. It's coming along really well … I think I'm making a lot of progress." Well, that wasn't a lie.

"That's great to hear. You know, my family library is one of the oldest in Great Britain. If you're stuck with anything, I could possibly help," he offered.

"I'm sure we won't need your help," a smooth voice replied from somewhere beside Hermione. Riddle.

She gave Riddle a frown for being so rude to interrupt her conversation, annoyed that he would dismiss a potential source like Lestrange, who was pureblood and could possibly have access to books that would help them. She turned to look at Alex who was glaring at the aforementioned wizard.

"You're working together?" he finally asked flatly.

"Yes," Riddle replied and Hermione wanted to slap the smug expression off his face.

Hermione started tapping her foot in annoyance. Bloody control freak!

"- if you don't mind, Lestrange, I need to speak to Hermione." Hermione's thoughts were interrupted surprisingly enough by Riddle being rude.

Hermione looked apologetically at Alex. She didn't exactly like him … but at the same time she was annoyed at Riddle. "Sorry, Alex, perhaps another time?" she said with a smile.

Alex narrowed his eyes at the two of them before nodding slowly and walking off. Hermione rolled her eyes and turned to Riddle, who looked a bit too pleased with himself.

"Could you be any ruder?" she hissed as she dragged him towards the edge of the room and pulled him behind a set of gauzy curtains. This needed to be discussed in private.

"What?" he asked innocently..

"Oh don't play Mr Innocent with me!" she hissed. "I had everything completely under control with Alex and you have to barge in like a wildebeest."

"A wildebeest, you say?"

"Yes, a wildebeest. Or a cave man … either way, I do not need you to try and control my life. Just because you became bored with your little floozy-"

"Floozy?"

Hermione sighed. "Can you please focus on what's important? I was handling Alex the way I wanted to, and now you've ruined things!"

"You were failing miserably. Honestly, you don't need to be so polite all the time. Just treat him like you treat me."

Hermione huffed. "He has a very large library and is a pureblood! We might have been able to use it."

He shook his head, a small smirk on his face. "Hm, perhaps not Gryffindor … that's a very Slytherin thing-"

But he was cut off from what sounded like a very loud bang from outside. Everyone immediately hushed their conversations, and a worried murmur travelled through Slughorn's room. Hermione's eyes widened in horror; Minerva and Alphard were out there! Before Riddle could stop her, Hermione pushed past him and started running with most of the crowd down the corridor, as fast as she could in her dressy robes and heels. She gasped in shock when she found Alphard standing in front of a collapsed Minerva, while pointing his wand at Abraxas Malfoy.

"What did you do?" Alphard demanded, his voice as cold as ice.

"What did I do? Only what's right! What were you doing out here, cavorting with that Mudblood!"

"Abraxas, what did you do?" Alphard demanded, this time dropping down to Minerva and attempting to help her.

"What are you doing Alphard?!" Abraxas sneered. "You cannot tell me you actually care for this mud-"

"Shut up! Just shut up! Fuck!" Alphard's voice cracked as he checked Minerva's pulse. "She needs to go to St Mungos ..."

"What's going on here?" Slughorn pushed his way through to the front of the crowd. "Dear Merlin! What happened?" he demanded.

Both boys looked at each other before looking at their old Professor. Abraxas swallowed heavily, glaring at Alphard, while Alphard turned away from the Professor, looking frantic.

Hermione rushed forward and crouched down next to Alphard. "Here, let me check her," she muttered, running her wand over the semi-conscious witch. She felt her panic begin to rise as she couldn't find any external injuries on her, yet Hermione could hear that she was short of breath, and her skin was taking on a bluish discolouration.

"What spell did you use?" Hermione demanded, looking up at the sneering blond.

"Why would I tell you?" he spat back.

But before Hermione could respond, like a flash, Alphard was up and had pushed Abraxas against the corridor wall, wand digging into his neck. "So help me, if you don't tell me what you did to her, I will make you pay," Alphard snarled.

"Don't touch me, you filthy blood traitor," Abraxas replied, eyes full of hatred.

Alphard flinched at his words, but then with a frustrated cry pushed and then shook him against the wall, Abraxas's head making a sickening cracking noise as it hit the wall.

"Boys!" Slughorn yelled. "You will not help Minerva at all with this behaviour. Alphard, step back, now."

Alphard stilled, but then after a second, seemed to think better of cursing the sneering blond, and stepped back tensely.

"Yeah, go on, Alphard, step back. You're just a little coward, anyway," Abraxas taunted. "You sicken me! You're defiling your family ... centuries of purity! And for what? Running around behind everyone's back for Minerva McGonagall?" he spat incredulously.

"Alphard, come here and pick her up. We need to take her to St Mungos, now," Hermione demanded, deciding that pretending Abraxas wasn't there was the best course of action.

Alphard flinched and turning his back on the blond, quickly came and scooped Minerva up in his arms as if she weighed nothing. He was up and away before Hermione could get another word in. She quickly jumped up and followed him.

"Do you know where you're going?" she asked breathlessly when she had finally caught up to his long strides.

"Headmaster's office," he replied after several long moments.

"Do you need-"

"We just need to get her to hospital," Alphard quickly cut her off, obviously not wanting to speak.

"Right." And she followed him, no extra questions asked.

XXX

Hermione trudged up the stairs to her flat tiredly, having spent the last few hours in the hospital making sure that Minerva would be alright. Apparently Malfoy had cast a dark curse known as Pulmonis Embolus, which caused a blockage to the lungs. Hermione had never actually heard of the awful curse before, but they were lucky that a Healer who specialised in dark magic had, and was able to help her just in time.

Alphard was a mess, but still refused to leave her bedside. When she had left, he simply sat there, unseeing, and she knew that he was in shock. The truth had finally come out, but in the worst possible way. Hermione hoped that he would be safe. She knew that it was dangerous for him, and even more so the way it had come out.

She got to her front door and sighed in annoyance. It was unlocked, which only meant one thing. Or one person, to be exact. Fantastic. All she wanted to do was get out of these robes, have a nice cup of tea, have a soak in the bath, and then go to bed.

Walking through the door, she didn't even look, but knew he was there. She could feel his gaze on her.

"What are you doing here?" she muttered, as she kicked her heels off, giving a sigh of relief for her feet, and then moved into the kitchen to make some tea.

"Is that the way you show gratitude?" he asked as he stood from her small couch and followed her into the small area.

"Gratitude for what?" Hermione internally cringed a little at her snappy tone. She was sounding much more annoyed at him than what she really was.

"For making sure you're okay," he replied.

"I'm not the one in a hospital bed," she replied sarcastically, giving him a brief glance as she prepared the tea.

He leaned casually up against one of the counters. "Yes. Malfoy's father is going to have a lot of trouble covering those shenanigans up."

Shenanigans.

She shouldn't have been surprised at his teasing, nonchalant tone. She really shouldn't have - it was him, after all. Still, it made her tightly grip the teaspoon she was holding, and clench her jaw at his attitude.

She was so tired. So very, very tired of it all. The prejudice, the fighting. The bad blood. Hermione thought that she had escaped it once before, but now she had been thrown right back in the thick of it. And who was to become the centre of it all - the leader - was standing right in front of her.

All of a sudden, it got too much for Hermione. Everything. Seeing Minerva on a hospital bed, struggling to stay alive. Seeing Alphard and knowing he would be disowned for simply falling in love with what his society considered was the 'wrong' person. The hatred in Malfoy's eyes at someone who was supposed to be one of his best friends. The casual way Riddle mocked Malfoy for something that he encouraged his own pathetic followers to believe …

The fact that she was one the very individuals that they hated.

She rubbed her forehead tiredly and looked at Tom. "Just go home, Riddle."

He continued to look at her blankly, and didn't move from his spot. Hermione turned to make tea - for one - and ignored him. Until she felt him standing right behind her.

"What part of 'go home' don't you understand?" she asked.

His hands came up and rested on her shoulders. Hermione couldn't help it; she flinched and awkwardly shrugged his hands off and picked up her tea, moving away from him.

"Don't do that," she said.

"Oh, so we're doing this again, are we? Still in denial?"

"There is nothing to de-"

"You're pathetic," he sneered over her.

Hermione snapped. Her shoulders tensed, and her frustration grew to a level where her anger was getting to an unmanageable stage. Pathetic?

"That's rich coming from you," she snapped.

"And what am I in denial about, hmm?"

"You're a fucking hypocrite, Riddle!"

His eyes darkened and his posture tensed. "Hypocrite, am I?"

"Yes!"

"How?"

"What, don't tell me you haven't wondered where the name Granger comes from. Don't tell me you haven't had at least ten thoughts about it!"

"And are we going to get to a point?"

"Yet you still want to put your hands on me. You still want to ..." she couldn't finish the sentence. It would confirm far too many things for her.

"Touch a Mudblood?"

"Don't hold back on my account!"

"So you confirm it?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.

Hermione was sick of lying. So what if she admitted it? She suspected that he didn't exactly need her to tell him. He wouldn't kill her, she was still too important to him. Besides, too many people were involved. He could possibly hurt her, but he couldn't kill her. And if it made Riddle stop trying to ... well, if he didn't want her in that way, that was ... good. That would mean she wouldn't have to make a decision.

"So what if I do? Need a bath now, Riddle?"

"You assume I would be ... displeased about this?" he asked.

Hermione remained silent. Of course she thought he would be. He was Lord Voldemort! He was a racist and a power-hungry bully.

"You're telling me you're not?" she finally scoffed.

"Think you know me, Granger?"

"Just as much as you think you know me," she spat back.

"Oh, please enlighten me," he replied.

"Piss off, Riddle," she replied, her temper finally snapping.

Before she could walk off, he grabbed her arm. "Tell me," he demanded.

"Let go of me, Riddle!"

"No, not until you tell me what you meant."

"Don't order me around," she replied in a low, dangerous tone.

"Why are you truly afraid to say what you think?"

"Why are you?" she returned.

He remained silent, his gaze penetrating hers.

"You call me a liar, Riddle, but your whole life is a lie, she finally said.

His eyes turned dark and Hermione tried not to tremble as his grip tightened around her arm.

"That's right. You are a hypocrite, Riddle. Don't think I haven't heard the whispers about you and your 'friends' ... and you think I'd actually want to kiss you?" She laughed incredulously before a serious expression came upon her face. "Why would I even want to touch you? she asked disdainfully.

His face was blank, but Hermione could feel the fury coming off him in waves. Suddenly, a mocking smirk appeared on his face that confused her.

"That's the sad thing, isn't it, Hermione? The fact that you know, and yet you still do want me, despite what you've heard. You are still attracted to me, even though you consider it wrong."

Hermione was about to yell at him that she certainly did not want any of those things, but she didn't have a chance as he roughly pulled her against him, finally closing the small gap between them, his lips slamming down on hers with an intensity that burned right through her.

The air thrummed around them. His magic was curling over her, tasting her, exploring her in a way she would have never thought possible. Her own magic soared at the feeling, causing her stomach to tighten and finally she responded to the kiss.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me … She knew it was wrong. She knew that she couldn't pass this time off as a mistake, nor say it was a trick by Riddle, like the last time. Responding to his kiss confirmed that there was an underlying attraction there.

And it hurt. It hurt that she had never experienced this intensity with anyone else. It hurt that such perfect kisses would always be tainted by a past that he hadn't even seen yet. But most of all, it hurt that it was him.

Yet there was no point denying it any more, or pretending. They were both adults here, and denying it would only be pointless and childish.

His hands roamed up her back to cup her cheeks. She shivered as she felt his fingertips lightly run over the sensitive area of her jaw line. He groaned in response, but slowed their kiss down, and they both finally pulled back, trying to catch their breath.

Their magic still hummed around them, and Hermione took the small opportunity to study him closely. His eyes were so dark, they were almost black, his lips were slightly swollen from their less-than-gentle kiss, and his normally pale cheeks were actually flushed. She was sure she appeared quite similar, and cringed slightly when his hand went up and touched her hair, a small amused smirk curling his lips.

"What, no denials? No backtracking? No lectures about this being 'work only' and that it means nothing?" he asked and she could detect the anger in his tone.

Her comments the other evening must have really ate at him, she realised. Hermione stepped back from him, the idea of having her own personal space giving her a bit more clarity. "I think it would be idiotic to deny things further," she replied.

He pulled her back into his arms and kissed her again, his hands running over her shoulders and arms before moving to her back. So intent on his kisses, she squeaked slightly when he suddenly picked her up, forcing her to wrap her legs around his hips, without breaking their kiss.

"What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly.

"You said you wanted to go to bed," he replied.

"Yes ... alone." _Lie._

He quirked an eyebrow; they were already in her bedroom. Curse her tiny flat!

"Liar. Nobody wants to be alone," he replied.

_Except you_, she thought, but held her tongue. Before she could think any more on the subject he unceremoniously dropped her on the bed and quickly followed her, his body hovering over hers as he began kissing her neck, while running one of his hands up her torso and onto her chest. Hermione's breath hitched when he squeezed one of her breasts and bit down lightly on her neck.

"Tell me that you don't want me," he muttered against her skin. "Go on, tell me," he goaded.

"I - I ..." she stuttered.

"Tell me that this doesn't feel right. Tell me that you don't notice how our magic feels when we touch," he added, much more quietly, before he pulled away and looked her in the eyes. "Look me in the eye and tell me."

Hermione stared back up at him, and was dismayed at how perfect he looked, even with his normally immaculate black hair in complete disarray, and his lips pink and swollen from their kisses. A wave of anguish mixed with underlying relief washed over her when she realised that she couldn't. She couldn't tell him she didn't want him. It would make things so much easier, but it was like she was under a Silencio, as the words just could not leave her mouth, even though she opened and closed it at least twice.

His eyes darkened with lust as he took in her expression. Leaning down, he surprised her when his lips softly met hers, a complete turnaround from the passionate, almost biting, kisses they had shared earlier. She found her hands moving up his arms and shoulders till they finally reached his hair. As their tongues and limbs entwined, she found herself searching for those feelings of regret again, and strangely enough, they had completely disappeared.

XXX

**A/N**: There, a nice long chapter for you all :)

Again, I have posted the explicit version of this chapter on AFF. The link can be found in my profile.

Thank you to all who have supported this story, it really means a lot to me.


	15. Chapter 15

**Hiiiiiiiiii.**

**Anyone still out there?! ****If so, thanks for coming back! **

**The usual disclaimer applies ... I don't own HP - nor am I making any money from posting this etc etc.**

**There is a rather explicit scene at the end. After the 50th interruption from my toddler, I couldn't be bothered dealing with AFF (the most non-user friendly site ever) and it's easier to just load here. **

**IF YOU ARE UNDER-AGE YOU KNOW YOU SHOULDN'T BE READING THIS - I will sic Abraxas Malfoy on you (no, you don't get the pleasure of Tom Riddle).**

**Song inspirations: City Girl and Try Colour – The Jezabels, Do I Wanna Know? – The Arctic Monkeys**

**XXX**

**Um, where were we again? **

**Hermione and Riddle finally have a list of his female ancestors. Phineas Black will be helping them.**

**Minerva and Alphard got caught out as a couple and she got cursed by Malfoy because of it.**

**Oh yeah, and Hermione and Riddle finally bonked (not that that's important or anything). **

**(the above now makes me wonder why my chapters are so long ...)**

**XXX**

The next morning, Hermione made her way through St Mungos to visit Minerva. She was really, _really_ trying not to think about the night before and the fact that when she had awoken, Riddle was nowhere to be found.

_What a wanker_.

Not that she expected much more from him. In fact, it gave her opportunity to think about how she was going to go about never, ever doing _that_ with him again. One night only … to get him out of her system, in that way, and then they would merely be … colleagues. Yes, a colleague only was _way_ more appropriate.

Stifling a yawn, she pushed open the door that would lead her to Minerva's ward. She passed a nurse who looked up, recognising Hermione from the night before.

"Not much change, love," the Nurse said. "She's healing steadily, but still out for the count."

"Thank you for letting me know," Hermione replied, dismayed to learn that Minerva was still unconscious, even though the rational part of her knew the curse was serious enough that she probably wouldn't wake up for a day or so.

Finally reaching Minerva's room, Hermione wasn't surprised to see Alphard still there, looking rumpled in his robes, clutching her hand. He looked up, and Hermione immediately took stock of the dark rings under his bloodshot eyes, his dishevelled hair, and tight frown marring his normally handsome face.

"Hey," she greeted and stepped into the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

"Hey," he replied. "Is it morning already?"

"Yeah, just gone nine," Hermione replied.

"Shit," he muttered. "So no change … obviously," he said, and gestured at Minerva.

"Yeah, the nurse told me when I arrived."

Hermione sat in the empty chair next to him, an uncomfortable silence falling over them.

Finally, after what felt like an age she cleared her throat. "How are you going?"

He let out an incredulous chuckle. "I wouldn't even know where to begin."

Hermione turned to look at him. "Just start where you need to."

He squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again. "This is all my fault … why she is here … I never wanted her hurt. I never wanted her to be exposed to any of this." His voice was quiet, though his anger and self-hatred seemed to fill the room.

Hermione grabbed his arm. "Hey. Don't be like that. Not now. Minerva _needs_ you, Alphard. She needs you to be strong." She took a deep breath. "This isn't your fault. You didn't curse her … you can't blame yourself. The responsibility of other people's actions is _their own_."

Alphard merely looked at his and Minerva's entwined hands. "Can you believe that my parents had the audacity to show up here?"

Hermione's eyes widened.

"They showed up to, you know; see if the rumours were true."

"You mean the fight?"

Alphard shook his head and rolled his eyes. "No. That their son was – and I use my father's terms – _'cavorting with a mudblood'_."

"Oh, Alphard," Hermione said sympathetically.

"They turned up here … and made a complete scene. I've been disowned. Mother is no doubt burning me off the family tree right about now."

"I'm so sorry, Alphard—"

"Don't be. I know what's important now. I'm just … I'm just sorry that it's taken _this_ for me to get my priorities straight." He ran his free hand through his hair. "I'd rather be living in a cardboard box than be associated with any of them."

"Where are you going to stay?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Dumbledore said that I can stay at Hogwarts temporarily … I'll work something out soon enough. I'm not really worried about that at the moment."

"Of course," Hermione replied, giving him a sympathetic smile. "If there's anything I can do …"

"Thanks, Hermione," he replied, giving her a strained, but genuine smile. "I know I haven't had the chance to do so yet. But thank you for everything you've done. For being there last night … and for being Minnie's friend. I know she's confided a fair bit in you. I know she'd be happy that you are here now too."

Hermione shrugged but gave him a smile. "That's what friends are for," she replied. "Hey, have you taken a break yet?" she asked quickly.

"No. The nurses brought me some food earlier, but I haven't left … oh, except to tell my parents to piss off."

"Okay, well why not take a break—"

"I can't leave her," he quickly said.

"I'll be here," Hermione assured him. "She isn't going to wake for a while. Go have a wash, eat a decent meal and then come back. Don't worry, I won't leave her."

Hermione watched him as he seemed to have some kind of internal war.

"Go on. You kind of smell a bit. You don't want Minerva to wake up to her boyfriend being all smelly, do you?"

"I suppose not …" he replied reluctantly.

"Besides, as her friend, _I_ would like some private time with her, you know?" Hermione said.

"Oh … right. I suppose you make a good argument, Miss Edwards," he said with a weak smile, and slowly got up and stretched. "I'll probably be back in an hour or so … I need to sort a couple of things out." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Okay, well I'll be here," she assured him.

She watched as he nodded, collected a few things before finally leaving. Hermione sighed, moved to the chair closest to the bed and reached for Minerva's hand. Rubbing her friend's hand, she smiled sadly at her.

"Oh, Minerva, it's all such a bloody mess …"

XXX

Hermione opened and read the piece of parchment for what felt like the thousandth time. It was Phineas's address – and whilst it was in London, it still meant that she would have to break Riddle's tracking spell, because she did not want him to know where Phineas lived.

However, it was frustrating as well, because she didn't want to show all her cards at once. Riddle would immediately realise that she had broken it and she'd no doubt have to then put up with him that night.

Something that she was trying to avoid after their most recent rendezvous.

Still, it had to be done.

Putting the piece of parchment back in her jacket pocket and pulling her wand out Hermione concentrated. The spell wasn't actually hard to break; you just had to get it in the correct order – like most things in life, obviously. But she knew if she messed up the order things _could_ go wrong.

_Up, Jab, Swirl, Jab …_

With a brief moment of something that couldn't really be classified as pain, but was uncomfortable anyway, she knew it was broken. She Apparated immediately, knowing that Riddle would be confronting her otherwise. But he couldn't follow her here.

She landed at a well-known park near Phineas's place. Careful to be discreet, she was thankful that London's streets were busy enough for the Muggles to not be paying much attention to their surroundings.

Phineas's home was located in Hackney, which Hermione was surprised to see was more of a ghetto in this time period. Obviously, in Hermione's time, the place had become trendy and expensive due to its proximity in London city.

The semi-detached townhouse Phineas resided in was much like the Black home, where it was invisible to Muggles. She watched as it literally came out of the brickwork and smiled slightly as Phineas stepped out of the house and ushered her in quickly.

"Come in, come in," he muttered, putting a gentle hand on her shoulders and guiding her inside.

She looked around and it was the complete opposite of the Black home. Where theirs had been dark and quite frankly creepy, this place was light and airy. Hermione absently thought that her mother would _love_ this place with its cream wallpaper, white curtains, and classic furniture.

"Your home is beautiful," she said as she looked around.

Phineas offered to take her coat. "It's not actually my place … it's the official headquarters of the position I hold. The home comes with the position, actually. It's always been here."

"Well, they've done a lovely job decorating," Hermione replied.

"Hmmm." Phineas put her coat on the stand in the hallway and gestured towards what appeared to be a formal sitting room. "Mildred!" he yelled sharply and suddenly, causing Hermione to jump slightly.

Suddenly a little House Elf appeared. She looked rounder than most Hermione had seen before and was wearing a floral tea towel and a bright purple fascinator with a peacock feather.

"Do you want anything to eat or drink, Hermione?" Phineas asked.

Hermione's attention left the Elf. "No, thanks. I already ate."

"Very well. You may go, Mildred."

"Yes, Master Phineas," Mildred squeaked before disappearing again.

"So …" Phineas gestured for Hermione to take a seat. "Last night was quite interesting." He sat down. "Is the girl okay?"

"_Minerva_ is still in St Mungos; a coma."

"It's a nasty curse, that one."

"Alphard hasn't left her bedside," Hermione replied, not really wanting to discuss the awful curse.

"Ah yes, my dear nephew … who knew?" he asked sarcastically.

"He's been disowned, you know," Hermione replied, trying to not snap – she was annoyed at his tone.

"That's expected," he replied, not bothered by her tone. "He's lucky they haven't done worse, to be frank with you."

Hermione bit down on her lip. She felt awkward saying anything, but knew that nothing would happen otherwise. "He has nowhere to go … He's not allowed back in his home, and whilst Dumbledore has offered accommodation at Hogwarts, it's only temporary."

Phineas looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. "And what, you want me to be the kind uncle?"

"Well, he has no one else-"

"I may be family in the biological sense, but I have not been a _part_ of that family for a long time, Hermione."

"He needs someone besides Minerva, Phineas," Hermione replied.

Phineas sighed. "I'll see … don't expect much more though."

"Thank you," Hermione replied, not wanting to push him much more.

"So, you got the list from Riddle?" He asked, changing topics easily.

Hermione immediately reached into her pocket and pulled the parchment out. "Sure do."

Phineas let out a surprised chuckle. "I'm surprised he gave it to you so easily."

Hermione shrugged. "It benefits him too," she said.

"I guess I mean I'm surprised he's not here breathing down your neck like usual," he said as he cast his eyes over the list before looking up at her.

Hermione bit her lip and looked out the window and Phineas suddenly laughed.

"He doesn't know you're here, does he?"

"Nope …"

"Good girl," he said with a smirk which made Hermione bristle a bit. "Kind of amateurish that he didn't put a tracking spell on you," he muttered as he looked over the list again.

"Kind of amateurish of you to assume I didn't know how to break it," she replied.

Phineas looked up from the paper, his lips curling. "Touché … good –"

"If you call me a good girl again I'll show you just what other spells I know," she snapped quickly.

Phineas's eyes widened and he put both hands in the air. "My apologies … I never meant to make you feel that way."

Hermione frowned but nodded. There wasn't time for petty arguments. "Apology accepted."

"You are an outstanding witch; a worthy adversary for Tom Riddle … if you were a few years older, Tom Riddle might have some competition."

"Competition?"

"Be careful who you share your affections with," he said quietly. "I cannot tell you what to do, but tangling yourself up with Riddle more than what is necessary is dangerous, Hermione."

Hermione felt a flush spread across her face at his words. "I can look after myself, Phineas," she replied, feeling embarrassed.

"Magic-wise, I have no doubt … it is other areas which I am not so sure about," he replied cryptically.

Hermione remained silent, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that was building in her stomach at his words.

"So can you help me?" she asked, deciding to not respond to his questions about her and Riddle's relationship – or whatever it was.

He looked at her for a very long moment, his expression serious, before folding the parchment and putting it into his robe pocket. "Of course I can help."

"Thank you."

XXX

Hermione tiredly made her way up the stairs to her flat. She had spent much longer at Phineas's house than anticipated.

She was starving and frustrated, having had to constantly refuse Mildred the Elf's offers to cook and then having Phineas warn her _again_ about Riddle.

If anyone knew about Riddle, it was her. She didn't need any more lectures. She already knew she was going have to deal with him because she broke the tracking spell.

As she reached the top of the stairwell a familiar figure caught her eye. Leaning against her doorway was the man who had been dominating her thoughts.

"Riddle," she muttered.

"Granger," he replied, his eyes dark and face blank. "Where have you been?"

She reached her door and pushed past him to go in. "Hi, I'm wonderful … how was your day? In fact, I'm surprised you haven't already invited yourself in. You could have made yourself useful and made me dinner … I'm starving."

She couldn't stop the whoosh of air that left her as she felt him push her against the now-closed door.

"Stop the shit, Granger," he snarled.

Hermione swallowed. She wasn't afraid for her life, but she knew that she had surprised him, and therefore angered him. The control he thought he held over her was gone.

"You are not the only clever one, Riddle," she replied.

"How did you break the spell, Granger?" His expression was now artfully blank.

"You know, if you stuck around this morning we wouldn't even be having this conversation," Hermione snapped.

Riddle raised an eyebrow. "I had work to do."

"I thought we were going to talk?"

"What? I didn't realise you were so determined to have some pillow talk."

"I think we should talk about it," she said and glanced sideways at Tom. He was staring intently at the ceiling.

"What's there to talk about?" he said. "I think it's pretty obvious what happened last night. If you think I'm going to waste my time appeasing your guilt—"

"My guilt?!" Hermione scoffed, sitting up.

"You're the one who cheated, aren't you?" he asked casually, looking her up and down.

Hermione frowned before looking down and realised she was completely exposing herself, emotionally.

_Phineas was right, I am an idiot._

When she looked at Tom again, he was smirking at her.

"No need to cry," he teased. "I didn't think you were one of those hysterical types …"

Hermione found herself getting more and more annoyed. _What a … cad!_ "Shut up, Riddle!"

"Hit a bit close to home, have I?" he asked casually.

"What?"

"Tell me, is adultery an acceptable pursuit in your time period?"

Hermione felt a wave of guilt crash over her. "Get out," she demanded.

Tom's eyes darkened, even though the rest of his face remained impassive. "But I thought you wanted to talk, _Hermione_?"

"Not when you're going to be like this," she snapped.

Tom rolled his eyes. "What, talk about the truth?" he asked. "Worried your little fiancé will find out that you've been fucking other men across the timeline?" He sneered at her.

Hermione couldn't help it; before she had even thought about it, her hand was up, palm outstretched, ready to slap him. But before she could even give the bastard a taste of his own medicine, he was already on top of her, her wrists locked in his deathly grip. She cried out in pain, sure that she would have bruises from him.

"Let me go!" she spat at him in anger, as he stood over her.

"Do you know what happens to little girls who misbehave, Hermione?"

Hermione swallowed heavily … if Riddle could be described as a colour right now, it would be black; his eyes, his expression … even the magic that buzzed around him. She remained outwardly still, as her heart tried to hammer its way out of her chest.

He suddenly dropped his head right down next to her ear. "Do you?" he asked in a low murmur that caused her to shiver. "Answer me," he quietly demanded.

"No …" she replied quietly, the sight of Riddle's darkness shocking her into silence.

She almost flinched when she suddenly felt his tongue drag from the base of her neck right up to her ear lobe. She couldn't help the way her legs squirmed at the feel of it on her; causing her thighs to rub together desperately.

"They get punished," he whispered in her ear; his breath hot, before he bit into her earlobe and pulled down on it harshly.

XXX

It was the rain that woke Hermione. The steady beat of it against her bedroom window was always a soothing and welcome sound. The fact that she felt extremely well rested for the first time in ages and warm and cocooned in her duvet meant that it wasn't until a few beats later that the events of the night before came back to her, striding in like an unwelcome Hippogriff.

And then she realised that it wasn't just the duvet that was making her feel so good, as a strong hand glided up her naked hip before palming her equally naked breast and warm breath ghosted her shoulder before she felt a light kiss there. And another, and then another.

"Good morning," Riddle whispered and Hermione shivered as his hand moved across the sensitive skin of her neck, brushing her – no doubt atrocious – hair away before his lips descended again.

Hermione was at war with herself. Either she continue to live in denial and enjoy the ministrations currently being put upon her, or move into the harsh light of reality and tell Tom Riddle that last night was never ever going to happen again?

"Morning," she finally managed to say, and cringed at how breathy her voice sounded.

"Hmmm," Tom replied and before Hermione could wonder much about the lightness in his tone, she was flipped over and he was hovering over her.

She blinked as she looked up at him, still feeling somewhat disorientated from such a heavy sleep. "What?" she asked, feeling uncomfortable as she took in his close scrutiny.

But he didn't respond. Instead he leant down and kissed her, their naked bodies pressing against one another; his erection hot and heavy and there, she couldn't help the gasp that escaped which allowed him to deepen their kiss.

_He doesn't even have morning breath, which is so unfair! Oh Merlin, I hope I don't have morning breath!_

If Hermione did in fact have morning breath, Tom never even mentioned it, and she realised he seemed to be much more intent on other … _things_.

Was this a good idea? Hermione knew it probably – okay, most definitely – wasn't, but she couldn't really undo the damage that had already happened, and he was doing such wonderful things with his hands …

Hermione couldn't stop the loud exhale as he rolled her onto her back, gripping her hands above her head, and then pressed down on her, pushing her legs wide apart and settling comfortably in between.

They both cast sleepy eyes downwards as one of his hands let go of her wrists and travelled to one of her breasts, tweaking her nipple before pinching it really hard.

But before Hermione could attempt to slap him again, because it bloody hurt, he moved down and soothed it with his tongue, while his hand moved downwards until it slipped in between her legs and he slipped one finger into her heat, before she felt him adjust his hand and move another into there.

_Those fingers_, Hermione thought and bit down on her lip as he started pumping her. _Merlin _…

He looked up at her, his eyes dark and his smile smug. "Look at you, you're giving into me. You want me." he said, not even waiting for a response before he swiftly pulled his fingers out, causing Hermione to cry out at the loss of contact.

But that didn't last for long, as he pushed her thighs further apart and suddenly his cock was there, filling her in one quick thrust.

She couldn't stop the moan that slipped out, not that he cared as he set a pace that could only be described as unrelenting.

"Look at us," he demanded as he lifted himself above her slightly. "I want you to see. See what you're doing, Hermione."

Hermione refused, instead closing her eyes and arching her back as Riddle hit a particularly nice spot deep inside of her.

"Oh no," he suddenly muttered.

Hermione's eyes snapped open when his fingers gripped her chin tightly, forcing her to look directly into his dark eyes.

"Look at me," he demanded. Hermione shuddered at both the feeling that was building slowly within her and the electricity that crackled between them. He was so close, she could see everything; he was almost visually perfect – not a single fault, from his obscenely high cheekbones to his lips – extra red and pouty from their current activities, but she always went back to his eyes. They were black, fathomless.

She was desperate to gain some control as he continued to dominate the direction of their fucking. He thrust in again, hard, and she gasped.

"_Tom_," she moaned in a breathy voice and had to control the smile when he almost snarled, his anger rolling around them like a perfect wave.

He responded by reaching down and pinching her clit; almost too hard. "Nice try, _Granger_."

"I thought you'd like me moaning your name."

"Too much talk," he replied.

She was close, they both knew it. But she wanted him to be in the same place as her. There was a desperate need in her to affect him just as much as he affected her. To see him lose control would be the ultimate aphrodisiac.

He moved his hand downwards and began to rub her clit furiously causing Hermione to gasp loudly; the feelings almost too much to handle. She tried to get him to slow down but he refused, obviously enjoying her squirming below him.

"Come for me," he demanded; his tone raspy and heavy.

She couldn't react to anything but the feelings his touch was invoking in her. He leant down and licked the sensitive spot just under her ear.

"I want to feel you around me," he muttered darkly.

Hermione couldn't control it anymore. The sound of his voice, the feel of his body … then the low groan he let out, like a whisper in her ear; if he was any further away she would have wondered if she imagined it, but she didn't and hearing that noise set of something within her and she let go. It was simple and yet so complicated. As she pulsed around him, she felt him breathe deeply against her as he lost control.

When she finally regained her senses, she opened her eyes and was immediately locked in his dark gaze.

"You are here," he muttered.

**XXX**

**AN: Thank you for reading! **

**I know most thought this story was abandoned and it almost was, several times. But I really want to finish it ... and I missed writing (creatively). I also went back and read reviews and it really inspired me to keep going. Suddenly, the voices of these characters returned. It was a wonderful feeling. So a huge thank you especially to those who took the time to leave me kind words. **

**I have re-edited the ending ... The story looks like it will be 24 chapters in total.**

**See you all next month.**

**Cheers,**

**Shan**


	16. Chapter 16

**I'm back and in time, too! Thank you for the warm welcome back, seriously.**

**Standard disclaimer: don't own it, am not making money and please bow down to the Queen, JKR.**

**Shout out to the darling Serpent In Red ;) for being the first to review chapter 15 – so the first to welcome me back from my dark abyss! If it wasn't for Serp, I wouldn't even be into Tomione in the first place! This one is a smartie pants and class act to boot xo**

XXX

_Don't rest with the less_

_I'm burning to impress _

_It's deep in the middle of me _

_I can be fantasy_

Fantasy – The xx

XXX

Tom took his time walking up to the house of Hepzibah Smith; his mind still occupied with Granger and their project.

It had been a week since Granger had broken his tracking spell and there had been no word from Phineas Black, _allegedly_. Tom wasn't too worried; he had put a tracking charm on a necklace that she never seemed to take off the other night whilst she was asleep. He knew she was at the shop right now, and hadn't really ventured out since that night. Of course, outside of work hours, Tom made sure that he was often around – driving her crazy and amusing him to no end.

As he reached the entrance to the old mansion the doors slowly creaked open and Tom adopted an expression of calm. Hepzibah's elf, Hokey, which looked like it was on death's door itself, was standing there waiting.

"Hello, Master Riddle. Mistress says you is to wait in the tea room."

Tom spared the elf a brief glance as he proceeded to remove his coat and hand it to the decrepit thing before heading into the tea room.

Of course, Hepzibah was already sitting there in hideous canary yellow robes. Her bright orange wig was styled in an elaborate twist, covered in jewelled hair clips – no doubt real jewels.

"Ah, Tom, such a wonderful surprise!" she squealed.

Tom wished he could roll his eyes. It wasn't a surprise to see him at all. The old bag had been in the shop the day before boasting to Burke about some Goblin-made Armour she supposedly owned whilst not so discreetly glancing at Tom in the process. _Of course _he would be expected to attend her monstrosity of a mansion the next day.

"Hello, Ms Smith. Wonderful to see you, as usual," Tom politely greeted and kissed her hand. He was amused at her blush … this deal will almost be too easy.

"Would you like a cup of tea? Scone?" she offered once he had sat down.

"Tea would be lovely, thank you." Tom undid the button on his jacket and made himself comfortable on the chair.

"How do you take it?" she asked before turning her body awkwardly towards the door. "Hokey, get here and make Mr Riddle's tea." Tom noted the way her tone changed between himself and the Elf. "Don't want to ruin my robes," she said and then giggled inanely, almost as bad as some of the girls he went to school with.

"White with two," he ordered the Elf. "No, they look brand new," he complimented.

"Yes. All the way from India," she tittered.

"The colour is very becoming," Tom replied, bringing the tea cup up to his lips.

Her flush at Tom's simple compliment was predictable. He knew women like this were easy … they were desperately lonely and dying for attention. The picture was further painted by her boastful nature and obsession with material possessions. She desired validation - his validation - above all else.

Even so, he didn't just throw his words around carelessly. With women like Hepzibah Smith, he always made sure that his compliments weren't over the top – to not risk being insincere – but just enough for her to be flattered.

"Custom-made at Madame Malkins, of course," she simpered in response to his compliment.

"It's hard to see such individuality now. Everyone seems to want to wear the same thing," Tom replied and watched as her smile broadened. He was pretty sure that cracks appeared in the heavy coat of make-up that adorned her face.

"I appreciate good quality," she replied proudly, leaning toward him. The bright spots of rouge on her round cheeks seemed to brighten even more, if possible.

"Yes, and it shows," he replied, gesturing to the room crammed with antiques. He could almost smell the wealth – and not in a good way.

"Which is, of course, why I wanted you to visit," she replied. "You simply must see this armour. But first we will enjoy afternoon tea."

"I look forward to seeing it," Tom replied with false sincerity as the woman continued to titter on about the value of it and the other antiques in the room. It wouldn't be the first time he had seen this type of armour before, even if it was valuable. It was of no use to him, except for the commission he would earn from it.

_One step closer to getting out of here_, he thought. Immediately, Granger's face came to mind. She thought she would be going home soon. Tom's hand reflexively tightened on the tea cup he was holding. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he tried to put his attention back on the woman in front of him. However, Hepzibah's voice was suddenly too grating … His irritation only grew, and he nodded at some useless gossip she was reiterating while inside he was fuming.

He needed to know how he and Hermione were linked. Preferably soon. But then what? Would Granger go back to her own time? A feeling akin only to what he imagined claustrophobia to be invaded him.

He'd given her far too much freedom. It wasn't that he felt he'd let his wand drop, or anything. They were intrinsically linked, meaning he had to treat her as a somewhat equal.

_That may have to change_.

"—of _course_ she thinks that her antiques are more valuable." Hepzibah's now-snide tone brought him out of his thoughts.

Tom knew she was complaining about one of her so-called society friends. They were all so predictable. Tom found it rather boring.

"Mrs Vanguard has quite a potion collection, I hear."

"Potions, rubbish! She is all talk, Tom. Delusions of grandeur, I'm afraid. She hasn't been the same since William went off to fight with Grindelwald."

"Some of those potions are extremely rare. She sold a set to Burke just last month that is from central Africa. Worth at least two thousand Galleons."

"Pfft. That's nothing. _She_ doesn't own any _ancient_ Wizard World artefacts."

"Oh, and you do?" His question didn't sound unkind out loud. In his mind, however …

"Well …" She blushed and pulled out her wand, summoning a small, gold-plated antique chest. Tom had seen these chests before. It looked like teak, and had various types of dragons carved into it. The chest itself was of significant value, however Tom's curiosity was now peaked as to its contents.

"Can you keep a secret, Tom? Will you promise you won't tell Mr Burke I've got it? He'd never let me rest if he knew I'd shown it to you, and I'm not selling, not to Burke, not to anyone!"

Tom was surprised at the normally docile woman's reaction, but nodded his ascent regardless.

He watched as she opened the chest and pulled a small velvet bag out. She undid the drawstring on the bag and carefully pulled the item out. Tom studied it carefully, his heart rate increasing as realisation dawned.

It was a small golden cup with two finely-wrought handles with a badger engraved on one side with a number of jewels.

"Is that …" Tom breathed.

"Yes, it is," she replied to his unasked question immediately. "Been in my family for generations … In fact, it's said that the Smiths descend straight from Helga Hufflepuff herself!"

She handed the cup to Tom and as his fingers wrapped around it, he felt what could only be described as warmth flow through his fingers and into his hands. It was magic, he knew that much. Very special magic.

"Does Hogwarts know that you own this?" he asked.

"Merlin no!" Hepzibah looked slightly aghast. "And neither do my money-grubbing family members. And they never will," she said resolutely, as she took the cup back and placed it into the bag.

"It's amazing; I'm honoured you deemed me worthy to see it," Tom said pleasantly. However, inside, his mind was whirling – he needed that cup.

"Of course, dear!" she replied, sipping from her cup. "Of course, I have something just as special that keeps Helga's cup company – though Mr Burke knows all about it, as I paid a pretty galleon for it."

"Oh?" Tom asked.

"You were a Slytherin, weren't you, Tom?" she asked instead.

"Why, yes, I was." _Get to the point_.

"You will appreciate this, then." Her tone was smug and proud. Slowly she pulled a much smaller velvet pouch out from the chest. When she pulled it open, Tom's eyes followed as some jewellery fell into the palm of her hand. She quickly unfurled it and Tom suddenly had to physically restrain himself from jumping across the tea table to snatch it.

"Slytherin's locket," she announced proudly as it innocently swung on her pudgy index finger.

"May I?" Tom asked, his eyes trained on the locket.

"Of course," she replied and preceded to hand it to him.

For Tom, it felt as if it was all happening in slow motion. When he finally held the locket in his hands, he felt the full significance of it, despite its modest weight and simple design. He stared down at it, at the small 'S' inlaid in glittering, green stones; serpentine in its design …

This was his heritage, right here. His birthright. This rightfully belonged to him!

Suddenly, a wave of fury crashed through him as he studied the locket. This was his, and it was in the hands of someone so … so undeserving.

"It's a … it's quite amazing, isn't it?" Hepzibah's voice, which sounded quite far away and weak in that very moment, interrupted his hateful and vengeful thoughts.

"Yes …" Tom answered.

His mind whirled. This was meant to happen. He was meant to find his locket. It would be in his possession again … soon, and everything else; the cup, and the mystery surrounding himself and Hermione, were also somehow linked, he was sure. She was for him, just like the locket and the cup were. And he would get to the bottom of it, no matter what.

The fates were aligning.

XXX

"How's Minnie?" Tarquin asked as they stacked shelves.

Hermione sighed; worry tinging her already-sour mood. "She's still not awake … I'm really worried, Tarquin."

"I thought the Healers said she would have been awake days ago?"

"They did. I guess no one suspected that Malfoy would be so proficient."

Tarquin shook his head. "Just disgraceful. Have you heard if he's being charged?"

"Well, I should bloody-well hope he is," Hermione muttered.

"Aurors have actually just laid charges this morning."

Hermione spun around in shock and was greeted by the sight of Phineas leaning casually against the shelves.

Hiding her shock at his sudden presence, walked over to him. "So he'll actually get in trouble?"

Phineas stood up straight shrugged slightly. "He's only just been charged … there's no telling the outcome – especially with a family _that _powerful. But let's just say that after all the shit with Grindelwald, the Ministry does not want to look foolish when dealing with crimes against muggleborns."

"They should always take those crimes seriously," Tarquin chipped in, looking offended.

"Agreed, and whilst your idealism is admirable, young man, let's just say that the Malfoys have always held a lot of sway. I've seen that family get away with a lot worse," Phineas replied.

Hermione huffed, all too familiar with the Malfoys and their power. Phineas's attention moved back to her. "We need to talk," he demanded.

Her gaze briefly fell to Tarquin, whose eyebrows rose in surprise at Phineas's demanding tone. Tarquin gave her a not-so-secret _'are you gonna be alright with this bloke?'_ look. Hermione nodded and gave him a small smile.

"Right, well, books look stacked quite well …" Tarquin muttered before gesturing to the front of the shop. "I'll just be out the front if you need me, okay?"

"Thank you, Tarquin. Can you let me know if anyone arrives for me, please? We'll be in the back office." Since Riddle had been, well, _always around, _recently, Hermione had installed a type of notification system in the shop. That is, if Tarquin saw Tom enter the store, he'd charm some fishing wire that ran from the front of the shop to the back office, where a small bell would chime, alerting Hermione to the joy that was Riddle gracing her with his ever-illustrious presence.

"Sure thing, Hermione," Tarquin smiled, and left.

Hermione turned her attention to Hermione. "Come on," he ordered, already heading towards the back of the store.

Hermione rolled her eyes, having to practically run to keep up with him. Once they made it into the back office area, Phineas shut the door and proceeded to wave his wand around the room, casting a temporary ward.

Pulling some papers out of his robe, he laid them carefully out on the desk and Hermione noted the photographs attached.

"It took some time, and some serious favours, but here are all the women from the list. I also managed to get their Ministry records, too. I actually came straight from there, so I haven't read them all yet," he muttered.

Hermione quickly walked over to the desk. Here were Tom Riddle's ancestors … well, the women, anyway. Hermione felt like this was really significant, in a weird way. Riddle was always so secretive; of course, even getting the list of family members was like getting blood out of stone. But because he saw it as a benefit he eventually complied. Also, there was the small thing that he had already forced his way into her mind, and she wondered if that was another reason as to why he never seemed to ever offer anything personal – well, Hermione ignored the sexual things that immediately came to mind, as he seemed to be quite vocal in _that _area – but she felt like they both understood each other … in the way that you could understand someone like that, anyway.

"Recognise any?" Phineas asked, breaking her out of her thoughts and causing her to startle slightly.

"Sorry, just looking," she replied somewhat awkwardly. _Get it together, Granger_.

She quickly scanned each picture and recognised the woman straight away. "There!" she exclaimed, pointing at the grainy picture of the familiar, plain, brunette woman who had appeared to her in the veil.

Hermione quickly snatched the picture and paperwork off the desk.

"Eurydice Macmillan," she muttered.

"Familiar name?" Phineas asked.

"Well … I actually went to Hogwarts with a Macmillan, but other than that, no familiarity at all."

Phineas moved and stood closely behind Hermione, reading the details over her shoulder.

"Well, I don't know where to start …" he muttered in annoyance.

Hermione flicked the paper over to read the next page. Her eyes automatically zeroed in on what was the most important detail of all.

"Phineas, look!" she exclaimed.

_Engaged to Cadmus Peverall._

"What? As in the 'The Tale of the Three Brothers'?"

"Yes!"

"Wait, wasn't that just a fairy-tale? And which one was Cadmus again?"

"No, it's not! And Cadmus was the one who had the resurrection stone!"

"What? How do you know all this?"

"Trust me when I say that I think I have earned a bloody PhD on the topic," Hermione replied, unable to stop the genuine laugh bubbling forth as she was immediately immersed in memories of Dumbledore's book … as well as her friends.

"Okay," Phineas replied, still not sounding fully convinced. "Do you know what this has to do with Riddle?"

Hermione took a deep breath. A myriad of emotions were within her, yet the most prominent was a sense of relief, as well as fear. If Hermione's hunch was right (which, let's be honest, they often were), it meant she needed the ring.

She sighed and turned to look at Phineas. "Everything, Phineas. It means everything."

XXX

**_AN: __We have Euridyce! Please, if you are interested, look up the etymology of that name. I was very specific when I chose it. What are your theories now?_**

**_Are some of you surprised that Tom seems to be slipping with regards to Hermione interacting with Phineas? Don't worry, he's just getting arrogant - not surprising canon behaviour for Voldemort. _**

**_Tom's interaction with Hepzibah: some quotes are referenced directly from the books. Specifically, when Hepzibah showed Tom the Cup, and the descriptions of the Cup and locket is from HP Wiki._**

**_Of course, I have taken liberties with things because, like, fanfic._**

**_I wasn't going to include a Tom point of view in this chapter as Hermione's voice is admittedly stronger right now. Thank you, AwesomePersonlolxx and HelloIamGracie for reminding me of how important Tom's voice is. Kind of glad I did too._**

**_See you all next month._**

**_Cheers,_**

**_Shan84_**


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